Peace and Health and Dreams
by Lady Sosostris
Summary: Four young university students scribble and write in hopes of finding a new means of expression in this consumerist, digital world. Yet all efforts may just be as futile as shouting and crying in the dark. To combat futility, Natsume seeks out women. Mochu puffs and smokes. Persona keeps secrets. And Yuu clings onto peace. Nothing is as it seems. / M-Rated
1. Genius and Friends

**A/N: Summer is creeping up on us again! Do you know what that means? Oh yes, it can only mean: Lady Sosostris's Summer Project III!** Unlike my previous summer projects, this story is M-Rated – expect lots of dirty talk, the nasty and perhaps even a mystery… this project is slightly more ambitious than my previous projects, but I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Genius and Friends**

When Yuu Tobita saw the tall, old buildings he knew he was finally where he was supposed to be. The big arches, the domineering doors, the grassy patches that dotted the campus and the deep, thick ivy crawling up the red brick walls were all to his taste.

He had never been away from his small town before. This was his first time in Tokyo, and as he navigated his way around Alice University, he felt that _this_ , _here_ is where he belonged. _Here_ , at the best university in Japan; _here,_ where they had an outstanding literature course… This was _it_ for Yuu, as he knew that if he wasn't accepted here, the hub and melting pot of the brightest minds in Japan, then, well, he wouldn't be accepted anywhere in this country.

It was warm; it was promising; it was his first day as an Alice University student.

Yuu was the smartest kid in his high school by a considerable amount. In his small town, everyone thought of him as a genius – the genius boy who was surely destined to become the new Murakami. The genius boy that was sure to bring fame and renown to the little and obscure town. Every birthday, people always gave him a book, with a banal, "Remember me when you're a famous author, Yuu-chan!" But as he looked around the lecture hall, for once Yuu felt ordinary. In his year there were sixty people, and all sixty students looked intelligent – the coy smiles, the bright glasses frames and the smart buzz of conversation told Yuu to expect competition for the first time in his life.

And who knows, maybe even a friend or two. That thought alone made him blush.

Next to him sat a small, mousy brunette, who, to his surprise, had a tattoo all down her arm. On his second glance he saw that it was a quote from _Paradise Lost._ The words of Milton were etched in black, trailing from the heights of her shoulder all the way down to her wrist. He was then distracted by the boy sitting across him; he had just pulled out an illustrated vintage edition of Renaissance poetry, impressing those closest to him.

But when the lecturer came in, Yuu's attention was directly focused on the woman. She did not have to clear her voice, or clap, or cough to gain the attention of her the new first year students: all sixty students were silenced by her presence, eager to hear the praises and words of wisdom that she might utter to the new cohort.

"Welcome, first years," her voice was deep, slow and measured, "to Literature studies at Alice University." She then followed her welcome by outlining the course, and stating the university's expectations of the first year before—

"Ms. Serena? Serena? Serena!" A bright, happy voice called from the back of the lecture hall, causing every one to turn. Two students had just entered (10 minutes late!) to the first lecture, and to every one's surprise, they seemed completely unbothered by their tardiness. The one at the back even had the audacity to yawn, and rub his eyes tiredly as he walked in her direction.

Ms. Serena, however, just groaned. "Mochu… just because I am your personal tutor does _not_ mean you get to call me—"

"Ahh, I'm sorry. Forgive me, S." Mochu grinned (he did not sound apologetic in the least), as he made his way down to the platform, followed closely by the other student.

The first year students were stunned: who was this Mochu and the yawning boy behind him?

Ms. Serena sighed, "Couldn't you see that I was _trying_ to impress and intimate the first years, Mochu? And stop yawning, Natsume – you are dragging what's left of my authority in the dirt."

Natsume smiled. "Sorry, S. I meant no disrespect."

Ms. Serena rolled her eyes. "First years, I present to you Exhibit A: _Third year students_. You will find most of them in the common room, injecting coffee into their veins, all whilst talking down on their lecturers and tutors," she threw Mochu and Natsume a pointed look, "moaning about essays – _all_ done so with a superior panache."

It was as if the gears in Yuu's head clicked and moved into motion; suddenly, his mind was frenzied, screaming and uncontrollably inspired. After years of treating his teachers with respect, here at the Alice University were teachers that treated their students as equals. The possibilities all but enlarged for him: he could discuss literature with the leading figures of the country, and for once, maybe the response will be realistic rather than fabricated and saccharine.

Ms. Serena continued, "You were supposed to come at 10:00am on the dot."

"Ah," Mochu clicked his fingers, " _that_ was not my fault: Natsume overslept." Natsume guiltily but devilishly smiled again at Ms. Serena, yet her lips simply thinned even further in response. But Ms. Serena had given up: rolling her eyes one last time, she took a step back, and told the third year duo to get on with their announcement.

"Hello, first years!" Mochu loudly called, as he turned to face the eager crowd, "As you probably gathered from that lovely chat, my name is Mochu and I'm a third year Lit student. I'm here to tell you about Ali-U's Creative Writing society. Now, most of you probably heard that and scoffed – don't lie; I see you smirking there in the back! – but hear out my pitch first. This isn't any old writing club where students sloppily confess their deepest secrets or repressed Oedipal issues in prose – we're not interested in shitty writing." Ms. Serena coughed warningly, but Mochu persevered, "We're an exclusive club, and our club leader is no other than Mr. Z Kuonji – ah- _ha!_ I see I've finally got your attention!" Mochu raucously laughed.

Z Kuonji! … _Z Kuonji!_

Yuu's back straightened; his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Z Kuonji was one of his favourite contemporary authors. One of the reasons why he was so keen to come to Ali-Uni was to attend Kuonji's lectures: to be taught directly by his literary hero. Yuu had previously devoured the information Ali-Uni's website offered on him: Kuonji was the Head of the Literature department, but only taught very few modules, which were only offered to second years. From all the interviews he had read and watched online, Yuu could confidently assert that Z Kuonji was an enigmatic genius with very, very few words, so perhaps his exclusiveness in teaching was not so surprising. Though discovering Kuonji's very limited contact was initially disappointing, Yuu reasoned that simply being in Kuonji's presence was better than not being in his presence.

But now lit in front of him was an opportunity to be converse and learn from Kuonji.

"That's right—if you join our club, Mr. Kuonji will be supervising your creative writing personally." Mochu confirmed. "But I wasn't kidding when I said it's exclusive: we currently only have three members, including myself and Natsume here." At this point, he clapped Natsume on the shoulder and digressively added, "Just thought I should add that in case you were all wondering what the hell this guy is doing, just awkwardly standing behind me, yawning. Think of him as _advertisement_ – I see you girls in the third row eyeing him up – he's single, by the way. If you join us, you might get a piece of this!"

Most laughed at this; Natsume glared at Mochu.

"So, if Kuonji's prestige and Natsume's good looks haven't convinced you, then I guess our club isn't for you. However, if the idea of being taught by Kuonji and potentially hooking up with Natsume appeals to you, all you have to do is write a 1000 word creative writing piece and give it in to Ms. Serena over here." Ms. Serena waved her hand. "The deadline is tomorrow evening. We – that is, myself, Natsume, Kuonji and our last member – will read all the entries and decide if there are any worthy candidates. I should say that no first year was admitted to our club last year, so don't beat up yourselves too hard if you don't get in – especially as you can always find Natsume in the student bar."

Ending with this joke (that earned him a more severe glare from Natsume), the two third years retreated, giving the lecture platform back to Ms. Serena.

Honestly, Yuu didn't think anything could possibly distract him from his first lecture. If asked yesterday, such suggestion would have been met with incredulous laughter. But now, as he sat in the lecture hall, he could feel his leg shake with adrenaline; he couldn't focus on Ms. Serena.

Short stories were his absolute favourite.

Tonight, he planned to display his literary genius, to prove himself as a worthy candidate.

* * *

On Friday, a small announcement was posted up on Literature noticeboard:

 _Thanks to all the first year students who entered their creative writing pieces.  
We would like to welcome _Tobita Yuu _to our club!_

 _Please check your email and find the date and time of our next meeting._

 _\- Mochu_

As he walked into the common room that afternoon, Yuu found that all of his fellow students were now treating him the same way everybody did back home.

Unsurprisingly, he had not made any friends that week.

* * *

The email had instructed Yuu to come to the Ali-U Student Bar that Saturday at 9pm, directing him to the couches on the left-corner of the bar. And sure enough, when he arrived (punctually), he found Mochu and Natsume sitting there, alongside another dark-haired male. Mochu and Natsume were chatting, whilst the third simply looked on, rather blankly.

Yuu didn't often get nervous, but he supposed tonight was an exception, and shakily (embarrassingly, even) he stepped forward (halting Natsume and Mochu's conversation) and cleared his throat. "Hi… I'm Yuu Tobita?"

He didn't mean for his introduction to come out as a question—his nerves were more effective than he previously thought.

His blunder was not met with sniggers (like in high school), but instead, Mochu and Natsume grinned in sync—Mochu even stood up to greet him properly. "Yuu!—Is it okay if I call you that?—Come, sit!"

"Hey," Natsume clapped his arm in a brotherly fashion, "I'm Natsume."

"I'm Mochu!"

"Yes, I remember." Yuu shyly smiled.

"And this," Mochu pointed to the third male, "is Rei Serio—but we all call him Persona. He's our third member—"

"I can introduce myself, Mochu." Persona's voice was cool and soft; there was not much friendliness there – and despite his reproach, he did not introduce himself further.

"—and you're our fourth!" Mochu continued, brightly. "You know, I don't think you know how fucking _glad_ we were when we read your piece, because _Jesus Christ_ , the rest of the year wrote absolute _shit_." For a moment, Yuu was startled by Mochu's brusque (perhaps even crass) honesty, and couldn't help think despondently upon the mousy haired girl that had sat next to him in the lecture, who had hoped too to be chosen into this club.

Natsume snorted, amused. "The standard was so low, Kuonji was even thought about closing the club after we graduate."

Any sadness that Yuu might have felt for his classmates disappeared then. At his name, Yuu pressed his lips together. "Is… Is Kuonji coming tonight?"

Persona raised his eyebrow. "Do you honestly suppose that Kuonji would come to a _student bar_ on a Saturday night? He's got better places to be."

Yuu blushed. "Oh, right. Of course."

Natsume smirked, "Fan of Kuonji?"

"Well… yes. Huge fan, in fact."

It was Mochu's turn to smirk, "I guess it wasn't Natsume good looks that motivated and inspired you to try out for our club, huh?"

Yuu's blush deepened; his heart pace quickening.

Persona rolled his eyes. "Your advertisement of Hyuuga's face backfired on us brutally." He turned to Yuu, "Can you imagine how many insipid short stories were entered about the 'tall, dark and rusty-eyed boy'? Absolute _fanfiction_."

Some time soon after, Natsume asked whether Yuu would like a drink as he was going to the bar. Yuu asked for a beer, before thanking him, and when he tried to get his wallet out, Natsume insisted that he would pay for this round. Yuu smiled at Natsume's generosity as he walked away to the bar, but when he turned back around to Mochu and Persona they looked both exasperated and amused.

"You're never going to see that drink, Yuu."

"Excuse me?"

Mochu sighed, but smiled, "Natsume's… well, look for yourself."

Yuu turned, and watched Natsume make his way over to the bar. Yet instead of speaking to the bartender to order drinks, Natsume placed himself conveniently next to a pretty girl, who was drinking alone. Without wasting a moment, Natsume engaged in conversation with the girl: and well, the rest was history.

"Happens every time." Persona said. "That's why I usually get the drinks but—"

"Natsume's had his eye on her ever since we arrived. You know what he's like."

"You would think he would _restrain_ himself tonight, as we're meeting our newest member…"

"That's not really Natsume's style, is it?" Mochu looked at Yuu. "You'll come to understand and see for yourself that Natsume _loves_ women, to the point where it makes him digress. Don't worry, he'll come back soon. Now," he clapped his hand, "Yuu. Can I just say I loved the bit in your short story when you describe all the colours melting, and exploding before becoming demure?"

Surprised by the different turn in conversation, Yuu fumbled for an answer. "Well, um, thank you."

"It was great. You think you can continue or expand that short story for our next meeting?"

"Next meeting?"

"Ah, yeah – should probably explain that first." Mochu turned to Persona for help.

Persona answered: "We meet once every 10 days where we share poetry or prose. Mostly prose. This means that you will have to be writing often, but this will help you develop as a writer. In our meetings, we compare and discuss each other's writing."

"So I'll get to read your writing too?"

Persona nodded. "Yes. After these meetings, we hand our work into Kuonji. He reviews them. He joins our meeting once a month," (Yuu was slightly disappointed at this piece of information) "meaning that it's mostly just run by us."

"That sounds fun!" Yuu said, with a slightly forced optimism.

Persona did not seem to appreciate this assessment. "This isn't some cute, fun little Creative Writing club: we are _future authors_. Kuonji doesn't pick just any random student – he _only_ picks the best of the best, because if anyone, he knows that it's _us_ that is going to shape the future of literature. _We_ are going to publish books and change the course of literature: _we_ are going to make history."

Persona spoke with complete seriousness, vigour and steadfast faith. It was clear to Yuu that Persona had believed ever word he had uttered: his conviction was not to be undermined. Yuu was both impressed and frightened by such conviction… how could Persona be so sure of himself, of _all of them_? And how could he so confidently talk of shaping and making a mark on the world like it was some effortless and easy task?

Quite unexpectedly Natsume appeared (with drinks), and handed a beer to Yuu before he sat back down. His reappearance somewhat dispelled Persona's prophetic words, as did Mochu's snide question: "Oh? I'm surprised you remembered us."

"I never forgot." Natsume replied with a Cheshire cat grin, as he raised his glass and drank.

"And your friend?" Mochu smiled, motioning in the direction of the girl, who was still at the bar.

"That's my business." But his telling smirk said it all.

Mochu turned to Yuu, muttering, "That means he's going go fuck her after this meeting."

Partially ignoring Mochu, Natsume said, "I heard the end of your grandiose speech, Persona. I don't think there was any need for that, unless you _want_ Yuu to be crushed by the weight of past and future literature. Yuu," He looked at him, "what Persona _should_ have said is that you have talent, and this club exists for you to polish your skill. Ultimately, we discuss your work to help you find your voice."

"Have you all found your voices?" Yuu asked, looking at all three.

Mochu answered for them, "I would say so. Natsume is all about the sordid nature of society and life—"

"I'm an expert after all." Natsume joked, interrupting.

"—and I'm… well, I guess you'll have to wait and read it for yourself. In our next meeting, we will all be bringing our respective work, so you can look forward to that!"

The conversation continued, progressed and subsided by 11.42pm. Mochu, yawning, said he was going to have an early night; Persona said he had to go to the library; Natsume found his way back to the pretty girl at the bar; and Yuu went back to his dorm, excited, inspired and bursting with happiness.

For the first time in his life, he did not feel like the lonely genius. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he might make some friends.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello lovelies! It's so nice to be writing for you all again. Hopefully this story will get a positive response.

So, what can you expect from this story? Well, a lot of conversations; exploring the tensions between Arts and Sciences; friendship and loneliness; the pretence of Fame; frivolity and steadfastness …

Although this chapter focused a lot on Yuu, each chapter varies. As the story progresses, the main narrative voice will shift to Natsume and Mikan.

I feel like my characters (in this chapter and the upcoming chapters) are quite OOC (out-of-character), especially Natsume and Mikan. Don't worry, Natsume will NOT to be the clichéd heartless playboy who falls for the innocent and good Mikan, and changes his way (oh no, no, no…) – like Mochu says, he loves women, which does not necessarily mean that he disrespects them. And Mikan… well, you'll see.

 **This story is largely inspired by the Beats Generation.**

Till next time!


	2. Experience

**A/N:** This chapter features drugs, and dirty talk.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Experience**

Three weeks had passed.

The weather was agreeable, and so Yuu was spending his Friday afternoon sat in the quad, under a tree. He was reading Natsume, Mochu and Persona's short stories steadily, in silence. They had a meeting tomorrow, and so Yuu was reading their latest works for tomorrow's discussion.

He had just finished reading Natsume's story. Mochu had been right: Natsume was great at exploring sordidness – something that Yuu felt that he could never do, as it seemed to stem from inside observation… _experience_ : something that he lacked.

As Natsume had said, they all had a distinct voice. Mochu's creativity made his narrative twist and turn in different and unexpected directions, which always startled and disorientated Yuu. It was as if Mochu was writing from a different plane to everyday existence, and perhaps this assessment was accurate, as just as quickly as Yuu began to understand how much Natsume liked women, he learnt that Mochu loved to smoke marijuana. Maybe the fleeting smoke inspired him.

Persona on the other hand—

"Hey,"

Yuu looked up, only to see Natsume, who then sat himself beside Yuu. Glancing at Yuu's reading material (Persona's story), Natsume said, "Ah. What do you think?"

"Um… well,"

"Give an honest opinion."

Yuu swallowed before admitting, "Well… it's very dark."

Natsume snorted, "Dark doesn't even cover it. Personally, I'm not entirely convinced by his sadomasochistic nihilsm, but then again, he doesn't seem to like my work either, so maybe it's all about subjective taste. But I can't deny that he writes very well."

"It's a very systematic manner of writing." Yuu supplied; Natsume agreed.

"He's Kuonji's favourite. That probably explains to you his heightened sense of superiority."

Yuu had not met with Kuonji yet. This delay only made him more anxious.

Unexpectedly, Natsume casually said, "Stay away from him." His tone wasn't serious, and he was lazily leaning on the tree trunk, pulling grass unthinkingly with his left hand.

"Huh? From…?"

"Stay away from Persona."

"What? Why?"

Natsume sighed. He clearly was not the type to gossip; he seemed as if he did not quite know what (or what not) to say, which made Yuu believe this advice was genuine rather than vindictive slander. "Look, he's a good guy. I know he is. It's just that there is a lot of background talk that he's part of some very dodgy gang. And from your writing, I can tell you're not ready to see any of that kind of shit."

His curiosity in Persona's rumoured gang activity rose before it was overridden by a more self-serving curiosity. Boldly, bravely, Yuu questioned, "What do you think of my writing?"

Natsume stopped pulling the grass by his side, and turned to Yuu. "Personally, I like your work the best." Yuu felt his cheek heat up immediately. "There this… naivety in your writing. I think you could write a great coming-of-age novel… but maybe you need to see a bit more of the world first… Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

"Tonight? Well, I was planning to go the library."

"As _fun_ as that sounds," Natsume smirked, "my friend's having a party tonight. You're more than welcome to come."

"A party?" Yuu had only really ever been invited to birthday parties: this was unfamiliar territory.

"Yeah. Mochu's going too."

"Okay. Yeah." Yuu decided, feeling resolved. "Why not."

Natsume smiled. "Okay, I'll text you the address. There will probably be a lot of people, and I'm sure no-one will ask but if anyone does, just say you're there for Luca Nogi. Luca's my friend; it's his house and party.

"Okay, great." Yuu nodded. "Thanks, Natsume."

"See you there."

* * *

Yuu knew Natsume had invited him in order to for Yuu to 'see a bit more of the world', as he termed it—this new experience could aid and develop his writing. After all, what good would just sitting _reading_ about experience do? Surely it's just a pale comparison to reality. And as he found himself in Luca Nogi's living room, he knew that he was somewhere he had never been before. Yes, the buoyancy was unfamiliar, but even the _people_ seemed different…

The lights were dimmed; conversation buzzing; laughter punctuating the air – all in this warm room. The warmth came from the sheer number of humans crammed into a small space. For a moment, Yuu felt anxious as he awkwardly stood there, and worried that in this sea of laughter and happiness, he was going to drown.

But then he caught a whiff: it was definitely marijuana. Hoping that Mochu might be at the other end, he followed the scent, and to his relief, he saw Mochu (smoking) on the couch, with his arm around a beautiful pink-haired girl.

Through bleary eyes, Mochu spotted him, and a grin split his face. "Yuu! You came!" He scooted to make some space for Yuu on the couch.

"Hi," Yuu said, with a trace of shyness, and with a polite smile, sat beside Mochu.

"Meet my girlfriend, Anna."

Yuu couldn't hide his surprise. He had assumed that Mochu was single, like Natsume.

Anna was not offended by Yuu's expression. She kindly smiled at him, before she leaned over Mochu to say, "Surprised? But you know, he's only dating me because I'm a good cook. Our relationship depends on his munchies."

Mochu took the opportunity to grab Anna around the waist and pulled her close, their flesh pressing.

Somewhat ignoring her boyfriend (but looking very happy), Anna said, "You must be the new member of the writing club. Mochu and Natsume have told me a lot about you."

Yuu blushed. "Oh…"

"Don't worry – only good things." She promised.

"Do you," Yuu coughed, clearing his throat, "do you also study literature?"

"Oh? Did Natsume not say? This is a science house party!" (Suddenly, Yuu understood why everyone seemed so unfamiliar—they were the students of science!) "We're all mostly third year science majors. I'm a medic, but you'll find people who do other subjects here. Luca—have you met him?—does veterinary science and—" she suddenly pulled herself from Mochu's arms and reached out to grab the girl who was passing by, "Hotaru here is a nuclear physicist."

"Hey Imai," Mochu greeted with a lazy smile, "how you doing?"

"Fine." Her voice was monotonous. "Put that out—you're single-handedly smoking up the room."

"Oops, my bad." Mochu complied, stubbing his joint.

"Who's this?" Hotaru asked, motioning at Yuu.

"Oh, I'm Yuu Tobita. I'm a first year literature student."

" _Ah_. Are you part of the writing club?"

"Our newest member." Supplied Mochu.

"Yes." Yuu added.

"Hmm." Hotaru seemed interested. "Come with me. Let's go get a drink, and you can tell me about yourself."

Yuu could tell this was a woman that did not accept 'no' for an answer, so he stood up, and left Mochu and Anna's side somewhat nervously, following Hotaru like a lost puppy to the drinks table.

"He seems very nice." Anna commented, as she took a sip of her own drink.

Now Hotaru was gone, Mochu was rolling a new joint for himself. "He's a good guy. I would say he's even a genius – he's got a way with words…"

"A genius, huh?" She turned and looked for Yuu. "He doesn't seem crazy though."

"He's not."

Anna turned back to Mochu with one eyebrow raised. "I thought you said all creative geniuses are crazy."

Mochu snorted, as he licked the smoking paper. "Yeah, well, after knowing Persona you _do_ start to wonder if there's a correlation."

"Is he coming tonight?" Anna's tone was cautious.

"Who, Persona? Of course not…"

Mochu lit his spliff and smoked took two drags in silence. Then, he placed an affectionate hand on Anna's knee. "You're my rock, Anna." He said to her, sincerely, and as he patted her knee a few times, he continued to repeat those words softly.

* * *

By the time Natsume arrived, an hour and a half later, the party was in full swing: people were drunkenly dancing, clinking their cheap cups, and laughing boisterously: everyone celebrated the cheap thrills of youth. Two steps in, Natsume felt an arm pull him, and he turned to see his best friend smiling at him. "About time, Natsume!" Luca's cheeks were slightly flushed, signalling his tipsiness. "Thought you'd never come!"

"Hey, Luca," Natsume patted him on his shoulder, "sorry I'm late. Unfortunately, I don't have any excuse to give except I couldn't be bothered to move my ass."

Luca laughed. "It's fine. Feel free to find yourself some alcohol – but stay away from the weird moonshine the biochemists made – it's disgusting." But Luca saw that Natsume's eyeline had strayed away from him, and he turned to see what had now caught Natsume's attention.

Luca wasn't surprised to see that Natsume was looking at a girl.

Natsume wasted no time. "Who's that?"

Luca had known Natsume for too long not to know where this was going. Sighing, in both amusement and exasperation, he answered, "Why don't you go ask her yourself?"

Natsume grinned back at his friend. "I just might." And with those parting words, he slithered his way over to the pretty brunette that was talking animatedly to a small group of people. He got her attention by brazenly tapping her on her shoulder.

Blinking, she turned to face him, her face initially flooded with confusion before she offered him a friendly smile. The others just curiously looked at him, wondering why he had just interrupted their conversation.

"Hi."

"…Hello." Her friendly smiled somewhat dimmed, and she now looked at Natsume questioningly. "Um… are you a medic fresher?"

Natsume snorted. "Oh, God no."

"Oh? I'm sorry," she drifted away from the small group she was previously with, edging closer to Natsume so to hear his voice more clearly, much to Natsume's liking, "I didn't recognize you so I assumed you were a fresher. Do you even do medicine?"

Natsume shook his head. "No, I'm a third year Literature student."

The previous smile returned to her face, and she genuinely exclaimed, "Oh, how lovely!"

Natsume raised an eyebrow. "That actually sounded sincere."

Her confusion returned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Most science students, _especially_ medics have to be convinced that literature is a worthwhile subject."

"Oh really now? Well, how do you go about convincing them?"

"Well it depends." Natsume smirked and leaned closer, and for good measure, even lowered his voice. "If it's a man, I usually outwit them to exemplify the power of language and its uses. If it's a woman…" Natsume tilted his head down to whisper throatily in her ear, "I recite poetry whilst fucking them, preferably from behind."

The brunette stilled in surprise. But then, very slowly, she looked up towards Natsume and met his intense, yearning gaze. She stared at him, unblinking, before she softly asked, "Is that a promise?"

Natsume grinned at her, both excited and pleased at her coy response. "Absolutely. What's your name?"

"I'm Mikan."

"I'm Natsume. So, mine or yours?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Ta-da! I bet you didn't think I would update this fast! Now, review replies…

Thank you Crazy Shortie; Anilissa; Guest and Yla for your reviews! I'm going to answer some general questions that were posed….

 **Can readers expect quick updates?** Like 'Summer Wine' I plan to complete this story before summer ends! I will not be updating everyday – perhaps once every two weeks, or so.

 **Is Mikan the mousy-haired girl?** Well, as you can tell from this chapter, no, she was not the mousy-haired girl. I purposefully put that there to throw you off-guard, tee hee.

 **When am I updating 'Resistance'?** Yeah… I can't answer this with conviction. I definitely WILL finish it, even if it takes me a bloody decade, but for now, I'm not sure. There will definitely be an update in the course of the year.

And all of you mentioned 'literature' in your reviews, and I'm glad that you seemed excited by this concept! And I suppose it is a little OOC for Natsume to like literature (as Anilissa pointed out), as in the manga there was no indication of that (except for Natsume's appreciation of visual literature/graphic novels) but I decided to shake up and invert the formula because if you look at all of my stories so far, Natsume is always the scientist whilst Mikan is always a student of the humanities. Which is a pretty gendered assumption on my part? So, here we have Natsume the writer and Mikan the doctor.


	3. Dr Keats

A/N: Just a heads up: **explicit writing in this chapter.** I know it's M-Rated, but maybe some of you won't be too comfortable with the smut, so I'll put a warning before it gets too steamy!

Chapter 3: Dr. Keats

* * *

Persona, Yuu and Mochu were sat around low coffee tables, drinking tea. Persona was quietly reading, whilst Mochu and Yuu talked—not about literature, but instead, Mochu apostrophized to the high heavens about how surprised he was that Hotaru _tolerated,_ even liked Yuu, before he explained certain details Yuu had forgotten about last night's party.

"Luca and Natsume are childhood friends, see," Mochu said, "which largely explains why we're friendly with a lot of the scientists. Not to mention some of them were my flatmates in first year; Hotaru—still can't believe she likes you!— was my neighbor and—" The conversation trailed off, as all three of them heard pounding footsteps outside the door of the small seminar room they were in, before the door flew open.

It was Natsume. Panting, he examined the room before he groaned. "Shit. Well, sorry I'm late, I guess. I was…" he cleared his throat instead of making up an excuse.

"Natsume." Persona's voice was stern. "You're fifteen minutes late. Why do you always go out of your way to waste our time?"

"I said I was sorry! Look, I just… _assumed_ that maybe others would be late today—you know, being Friday night last night."

"That's a weak excuse, even for you." Persona answered, but his voice wasn't cold—he just sighed, with a very small smile in the corner of his lips. "Just be thankful that Kuouji isn't coming today."

Mochu did not bother reprimanding Natsume, instead asked, "Where were you last night? You invited Yuu but you didn't even bother to show up yourself! You bailed."

"Oh, didn't Luca say?" Clearly not, so Natsume explained, "I did go, but I left with someone within the first two minutes."

Persona snorted. "Jesus. That's a record."

Mochu grinned, "Nice girl?"

Natsume smirked, "Very nice girl. She gave a 'Distinction' worthy blowjob and didn't ask about the scars on my back." Natsume sat down, and poured himself some tea, whilst pulling the rice crackers closer to him.

Yuu's confusion showed upon his face, and so even before he decided whether or not it was appropriate to ask, Persona explained, "Natsume was in a fire accident as a young child. As a result, half of his back is marred."

"Ugly shit." Mochu added.

"Fuck you. Leave my ugly back alone." Even so, his voice was still cheerful.

Not wanting to talk about Natsume's (possibly traumatic and figuratively scarring) childhood memories, Yuu asked, "Are you going to see her again?" He didn't notice it himself, but to the other three, Yuu's voice was light and bright, gleaming innocently. His innocent question made Persona feel uncomfortable, and Mochu could only react to it with incredulity: raising only one eyebrow, Mochu looked at Yuu patronizingly, as if to say, 'Come on, this is _Natsume_.'

But Natsume's response was different. Looking at Yuu with a questioning gaze of (perhaps) amazement and amusement, he said, "Why, Yuu? Do you think I should see her again?"

Yuu knew out of everyone in the room, he was probably the least qualified to answer this question due to his gaping lack of experience. There was no point in giving an answer that he did not know. So, Yuu simply returned the question back to Natsume with a shrug, "Why not?"

After swallowing a bite of the rice cracker, Natsume mused, "That's a good question… And you know," his contemplative look melted into a satisfied, even wistful smile, "I did have a great night last night."

"Did you get her number?"

"No…" Natsume smiled, "but Luca knows her."

* * *

 _Last night_

"So, what was a Literature student doing at a science party?" Mikan asked, as Natsume closed the door to Luca's behind them. "Were you crashing the party?"

"I'm not the type to crash; no, I know Luca. He's my childhood friend."

"Ah, that's reassuring."

"How so?"

"Well, any friend of Luca can't be a murderer, so at least I know my life is in safe hands."

Natsume smirked, but thinking they should probably walk to a destination, rather than converse on Luca's doorstep, he asked once again, "So then, mine of yours?"

"Yours." Her response was quick: she had clearly thought about this on their way out. "I have an 8am hospital lab workshop tomorrow, and," she now smirked at him, "even though I'm quite sure you're not a murderer, I'd rather you didn't loiter around my room after I left."

It was quiet outside compared to Luca's—the air was fresh and light, rather than sweaty and thick. It was a cool evening, with an inky sky, perfect for a late night stroll, as the dark street was prettily illuminated by the halos of the street lamps that lined the road.

"An 8am on a _Saturday_? God. You poor soul." He then held her arm, to steer her, "This way. Conveniently, I live very close to Luca's." Natsume continued, "So you have a lab every Saturday morning?"

"No, not every Saturday. But never mind that. Let's not small talk."

"Not a small talker?"

"No…" she grinned up at him, "are you small-talking me?"

"Well, should I big-talk you?"

"Put it this way: we're about to go to your room to have sex—and depending how good you are, perhaps even _hours_ of sex. So, I would rather you make me feel hot and wanton during this walk, rather than dry me up by talking about the weather or studies. I don't want to waste my perfectly good Friday night."

Natsume accepted the challenge. "Fine. Let's play a game." He didn't let Mikan agree. "I'm going to guess what you're wearing underneath that dress."

Mikan smiled. "Go on, then."

Natsume them grabbed her hand to stop her from walking ahead: they had arrived back to his. He was not exaggerating when he had said that he lived very close to Luca's. As he pulled her to his door, he fumbled with his other hand for the keys, as he calmly and steadily said, "I'm guessing you're wearing a thong."

"Very good. Would you like to guess the colour too?"

He pushed the door open: it was an apartment building, and an elevator waited for them a few steps away. He pressed the button, before turning back to her. He eyes washed over her, from top to bottom. "Black?"

The elevator door pinged open, and boldly, Mikan pushed Natsume in, right to the back wall of the elevator. Fearlessly, she pressed her chest against Natsume's, then said, "And on top?" Her breasts had flattened themselves against Natsume, and Natsume's immediate reaction was to glance down before his arms cradled her, crushing her further against him.

God, she felt good.

"No peeking." She teased, giggling ever so slightly.

"A black lacy bra?"

Mikan snorted at this. "Why do all men think we _only_ have black and lacy underwear?"

After pushing the button for the 3rd floor, Natsume pulled Mikan slightly away—with one hand, he held her lower back, but with the other hand, his index and middle finger hovered by her breasts, before he shamelessly hooked the two fingers inside the neckline of her dress. The two fingers pulled the cloth from her, so he could look down and observe her bra and breasts.

Two heaving breasts were cupped softly by a pale polka-dotted bra. His eyes lingered.

"Damn. I would have never guessed Polka-dots."

The elevator groaned into motion.

"My thong's also polka-dotted. So, you've only scored 1 out of 3."

"What does that mean for me?"

She tiptoed, only to say, "You're going down on me first."

"Please," Natsume scoffed, with a smile, "you say that as if it's a forfeit. But you should know that I _always_ go down first. That's also a promise."

The elevator chimed again; Natsume led Mikan to his door; he opened it; let her in; followed her in; turned on the light and finally locked them in.

"Oh, God," Mikan moaned, "It's like … it's like a _library_ in here!" This was true—there were books _everywhere_ : on every surface, on the floor; the bookshelf was spilling books right, left and centre. Natsume smiled as he watched her drift to his bookshelf (taking care not to step or slip on anything), only to admire his collection. For a moment, it seemed as she had forgotten _why_ she was here—she had crossed her arms inquisitively as she inspected the various titles and authors. "Wow, you really like the modernists, huh?"

He didn't answer that; instead, he slithered behind her, wrapped his arms around her from behind, before resting his chin on her shoulder. But he didn't waste anytime: he started to kiss and bite the junction between her shoulder and neck, and when her arms unraveled, only so that her hands could hold his wrists, he knew that she was no longer thinking about the goddamn modernists. Finally he decided to answer her statement, with his lips pressed against her neck, "I thought you said you didn't want to talk about studies."

Natsume continued to kiss and suck her neck, as she rather hazily answered, "Well, you promised me a private and intimate poetry reading… I was just browsing potential poems."

He squeezed her tighter, silently conveying his appreciation of her wit.

"Though I have to say…" she continued, murmuring, "I hope you don't recite any modernist poetry, especially T.S. Eliot," she gasped then (he had bit her a bit harder) before explaining, "… they worry about death too much. Talk about a turn-off."

He stopped kissing her neck, to snigger. He reassured her, "Don't worry. I have something more _Romantic_ in mind." And went straight back to kissing her neck.

God, she tasted good—his tongue heavily traced the groove of her neck, up and up, to her jawline. She held her breath, but then exhaled unsteadily. Mikan's hold on his wrists tightened, as she somewhat shakily murmured, "You know… I've always wanted to get fucked in a library."

Unsurprisingly things escalated very quickly after that.

(A/N: To those who are uncomfortable with explicit smut, now is the time to scroll down)

He pulled her dress down, so that her arms were free and her chest was exposed—the dress clung and hung on her stomach, but neither Natsume nor Mikan cared about its newfound awkward position (neither did they react to the ripping sound that accompanied Natsume's frenzied undressing of her) as soon after, Natsume placed a burning hand on her left breast, over her bra. Mikan gasped as he squeezed it, then unclenched his hand (just long enough to let the blood rush back) before squeezing it just as tightly as before.

As he was still positioned behind her, Natsume just kissed whatever area he could: her shoulder; her neck; her cheek—

Mikan pulled a hand to Natsume's cheek, turning his head more towards her, just so she could look back and fiercely kiss him.

Emboldened by her hot, searing open-mouthed kiss, Natsume let his other hand trail south. It boldly (and very quickly) found its way under dress, and Mikan heavily moaned in his mouth when his fingers found her thong. Instinctively, she widened her stance, opening herself up to him more. And for good measure (perhaps also to indulge in her fantasy), she rested her forehead against his bookshelf for support.

Her forehead appropriately touched the spine of D.H. Lawrence's _Lady Chatterley's Lover_ : Natsume's favourite 'smart' smut.

Only a mere _strip_ separated his fingers from her cunt. Her traced the strip with his middle finger – gently, delicately - all the way from her front, to the back. Mikan cried in utter frustration – desperate for this to both never end, and desperate for him to exert _force_ down there. "Please… _please_ …" She whimpered, unsure of exactly what she was begging for, "Oh… Oh, _God!_ "

He had teased her enough for now (there will be time for that later, he thought), and so he responded to her cries (prayers, even) by probing his middle finger in her folds, only to be met with a hot wetness, that surely could only be likened to the monsoon.

It was Natsume's time to pray. After all, wet cunts were his temples: his place of utter devotion and worship. "Oh, _God_ …" his lips were pressed to her neck as he appreciatively groaned, "you're so wet."

He was hard, and it was brutally painful. A lot of things contributed to the pain: from her wet cunt; to her gasps and cries; her heaving chest - even the way she had widened her legs so he could access her better turned him on. He _loved_ it when women didn't shy away from pleasure. Not to mention, her quick wit also serviced him. _That_ was an unexpected but pleasant curveball – after all, it was usually him that did the seducing with words, not the other way around. No matter: the _point_ was, Natsume was hard.

Yes, he had promised to go down on her first. But he had also promised to fuck her whilst reciting a poem, and if he didn't start that quickly he feared that his intimate poetry reading would _come_ to a finish just after two (at best, three) lines.

He'll go down on her later, he decided, as he freed her breasts from her polka-dotted bra. He'll fuck her and recite poetry to her now then give her head later.

Once his schedule was materialized in his head, Natsume wasted no time.

He sucked the junction of her neck (darting his tongue out, now and then), as he started to boyishly but systematically pinch her left nipple before squeezing the whole breast, all whilst he prepared for the grand finale down in Mikan's cunt. His thumb found her clit, and he pulsed it against the flesh (making Mikan mewl like a cat), before his two longest fingers slithered their way down, down, before slipping into her—

" _Oh_ , oh, _oh,_ " Mikan cried as he pushed his fingers in, " _Ugh_!" (That was the most appreciative 'ugh' Natsume had ever heard in his life.)

It was very hot between her legs, and Natsume exhaled noisily through his nose (mouth currently biting her shoulder), as he vigorously and quickly fingered her, all while his other hand clenched and unclenched her left breast.

"Fuck, you're so tight…" he said, against her hot skin.

Her only response was a rather high-pitched _Ah_.

Mikan, he quickly learnt, liked to experiment: she did not simply stand there to let Natsume do all the work (not that he would have minded – this was his favourite kind of work, after all), but she took some control of the reigns by grinding and rolling her hips, so that his fingers thrust deeper inside her, venturing in different wet corners of her cunt.

By her staccato cries that were crescendo-ing, and from the way she held onto his biceps (tightly, clawing, even), with her eyes shut tightly, Natsume knew she was ready fuck. And honestly, he was ready too.

Suddenly, both his hands stopped their fervent movement, and Mikan blinked and opened her eyes in confusion and surprise (she even cried with pure disapproval when he pulled his fingers out of her). She turned back to look at him, but when she saw that he was now pulling a condom from his jeans' pocket, she knew exactly what was coming.

Noticing her burning gaze, Natsume glanced up, smirked at her. "I'm gonna fuck you now."

She smiled. "Good."

It was time for her to pull her dress off her, along with her thong.

After he undressed and rolled the condom on, he shuffled his way closer to her. He was still positioned behind her; he held her hands, and guided them to his bookshelf. He pressed her hands against it, his own big hands leaning against her's. She felt his warm chest against her back. His legs nudged her legs further apart, before his hands now found their way to her hips. He didn't have to put her in position: automatically, her torso leaned forward towards the bookcase, with her long hair trickling down her back.

He started: " _Give me a golden pen, and let me lean_ —"

Her head whipped back to face him; with one eyebrow raised incredulously, confusion threatening to overtake pleasure.

"— _On heap'd flowers, in regions clear, and far_ ,"

Recognition flickered in her eyes and her eyebrow returned to its normal position. Pleasure was back and confusion all gone. Then, a very cheeky but sultry laugh escaped from her lips.

He grinned back at her as he continued, " _Bring me a tablet whiter than star—"_ He clenched her hips tightly then threw his weight on lower back; with that one heavy thrust, he was in.

Being considerably taller than her, Natsume put his chin by her ear with ease, leaning his upper body body against her back. After that, he let his lower body do all the work, and his rhythmic thrusts were accompanied by Mikan's rhythmic cries, pants and moans.

" _Or hand_ …" Natsume groaned throatily, before he persevered, "… _hand of hymning angel, when 'tis seen—"_

Good God, he had just found her G-spot.

" _The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: And let there glide by many a pearly car, Pink robes, and wavy hair, and diamond jar, And half-discover'd wings, and glances keen_." If Natsume had been reading this out loud in a seminar, his professor most likely would have reprimanded his very non-poetic manner of recital. He was delivering each line with varying speeds, so that they all blurred into each other. Some of the words came out as pants: indistinguishable air, rather than words. Not to mention, his irregular grunts cut the lines in awkward places. But, as it stands, he was not in a seminar; no, he was simply fucking a very attractive girl whilst muttering a poem.

" _T-The while…_ Nghhhh," he exhaled noisily, "Fuck! … I mean… _Let music wander round my ears,"_ He took this as a cue to really listen to the sounds Mikan was making, and by God, it was erotic. " _And as it reaches each delicious ending,"_

His left hand let go of her hip, only to tickle its way down her thighs right to her clit. He repeatedly pressed down on it, and by the way her moans turned into jubilant cries, he knew she was reaching her 'delicious ending' very soon.

" _Let me write down a line of glorious tone, And full of many wonders of the spheres: For what a height my spirit is contending!_ " He very nearly shouted that last line in pure triumph; his words were sincere – his spirit really did soar. God, sex made him so happy! And it clearly also made Mikan very happy, as she had just let loose the conclusive, deafening moans, that signaled her ending: "Ah, ah, _ah!_ " (Take heed, good things always come in threes.)

Natsume had a few more thrusts left in him – completely undeterred, instead encouraged by her clenching, pulsing wet walls, Natsume quickened his pace, his skin slapping against her's loudly. It was time. It was time to deliver the last line:

"' _Tis…_ Oh, fuck!" His groan vibrated the back of his throat, "' _Tis not content –_ fuck, fuck! – _so soon to be_ – shit, I'm coming! – _alone_ —Nnnghhh!" He came hotly and thickly, and the explosions were accompanied by his grunts and pants that tore through his lips. His hold on her hips were tight, and for a moment, he was completely numbed by delirious pleasure. Everything felt hot, white and blinding in that moment.

Then, his senses slowly returned: the whiteness was coloured in behind his eyes. His breathing returned, and now his body quivered. Finally, he released a final loud exhale of deep satisfaction, before he leant heavily on Mikan's back, sated and content.

She could hear his shallow breathing close by her ear; his breath was warm and ragged. His breathing soon imitated her slower rhythm; together, they breathed.

"Why," she cleared her throat (it was drier than she had anticipated), "why Keats?"

Natsume lazily smiled against her shoulder. "Medic and poet. He was training to be a doctor before he became a poet. I thought it would be fitting for us." Natsume finally peeled himself off Mikan's back, and held one of her arm so she would not loose balance. He pulled out of her too – with his other hand he took the condom off. He glanced up at her, "You certainly know your poetry. I'm surprised you knew it was Keats."

She held onto his arm, grinning. "Well, I had to make sure that you weren't just going to recite _The Cat in the Hat_."

"Another classic." He joked. "But you could say it was Keats with a few new words added here and there."

She laughed, "Yes, I'm sure Keats would be delighted to know that you've added many 'fuck's into his poem."

"Don't forget 'I'm coming'. I bet he's applauding in heaven."

"Or rolling in his grave." But then, her smile faltered slightly, "My legs are going to give out."

He had just disposed of the condom in the bin near by, so now he held out his other arm so she could hold him for support. He could have played the part of the gentleman by asking her if she was okay, but instead, Natsume sniggered, somewhat smugly, "I've always told girls that I would fuck them until they couldn't stand. It's never actually happened though… until you."

She rolled her eyes. "It's because you were leaning on me the whole time! You're heavy. And tall. But mostly heavy."

He scoffed, teasing, "And you're saying a strong, independent woman-doctor like yourself can't support a man like me?"

"No," she sweetly smiled, "I'm saying that a strong, independent _doctor_ like myselfcut and dissect disobliging, unsupportive, but most of all _dead_ men before lunch. We slap their hearts and guts out on a _slab._ And don't say woman-doctor: it's patronising." She tiptoed, and kissed him.

He responded whole-heartedly, slanting his mouth against her's; he wrapped his arms around her waist securely, so that she would not fall.

"I won't," Natsume said, in between small pecks, "say that again."

She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Good. Now," she looked around, "shall we continue on your bed?"

He grinned, "Absolutely. All this talk of dissection and guts has turned me on."

She laughed lightly.

A lot happened that night on Natsume's bed, but when he woke up a few hours later, she was no longer nestled in his sheets with him. She had left no note, no souvenir (aka thong) and no number. And as he sat there this morning, in his messy, messy bed, alone, he couldn't help but say again, "' _Tis not content so soon to be alone_."

* * *

Mikan was starving. It was bad enough already that she had labs from so early in the morning, but her supervisor had just informed her lab-group that they only had a fifteen-minute break. "Come back in fifteen-minutes," he had bade them, "We'll be discussing the results from this morning's insulin experiments."

So, she had to wash her face; pee; get some coffee; get some _food_ (oh, God, please let there still be bento boxes in the cafeteria!) and disinfect all over again in fifteen minutes.

Great.

She rushed down the hall. Her priority was the canteen. The bathroom could wait till the very last minute—

She had turned a corner a little too sharply, and before she could react by halting or turning, she slammed against an oncoming person.

"I'm sorry, I—" recognition lit up her face as she looked up, "Oh, hey!" It was the silver-tongue Lit-student from last night: Natsume. Her surprise in seeing him awake and standing (after all, she had left him a few hours ago, in his bed, asleep) dismissed the thought of the canteen from her mind.

She smiled at him, showing no signs of embarrassment or awkwardness.

Natsume smiled back, pleased with her timing and his luck. It was only half an hour ago that he had decided to go find Luca in the science department; Luca had an irritating habit of leaving his phone on his bedside table, and so when Natsume had still not received a response two hours later, he knew it was time to move and seek Luca out for himself if he ever wanted to get a hold of Mikan's number. Never did he think that the gods would let him bump into _her_ instead.

"You alright?"

"Yes." But soon after her response, she remembered that she was not okay. "Actually – no," she apologetically stepped away from him, "I'm sorry; I'm in a rush. I have to go grab lunch!"

"Can I join you?" He walked along side her, easily keeping up with her.

"You don't mind canteen food?"

"I'll admit: I've never eaten at the canteen. But I'm always up for trying new things." He smirked.

"Well, I'll warn you now that it's not that great. And I've only got ten minutes to eat – you still fine with this?" They were walking and talking very quickly down the hall. "What are you doing in the science department? I thought you said you weren't the type to crash."

He smiled – she teased him with such ease. "I wanted to speak to Luca."

"Oh – I briefly saw him on my way down here: he's in the left-wing, by the statue of that creepy giant bird on the fifth floor. If you go now, he might still be there—"

"It's fine. It doesn't matter now."

They were at the canteen; Mikan grabbed a tray, and Natsume simply copied her every move. She grabbed the nearest bento box, before pouring herself a bowl of miso soup.

"So, have you already dissected a heart or gut?" He was attempting to continue their conversation from last night – one in which she had joked (or insisted) that she cuts up men before lunch.

"Oh, no. No heart or gut today." She smiled at him. "But I dissected a stomach this morning. In fact, the stomach lining is waiting for me upstairs right now as we speak."

Natsume knew she wasn't joking. He couldn't tell if he was impressed or terrified. Maybe a bit of both.

"Did I wake you this morning?" She asked, casually moving the conversation forward (she didn't have much time after all), "I'm sorry if I did – do you want miso soup?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "wait. I mean, _yes_ I want some miso soup, and _no_ , you didn't wake me up this morning." He thanked her when she quickly passed him a hot bowl, before placing it on his tray. They walked to the cashier, swiped their student cards, and found an empty table.

"You know," Natsume said, placing his tray on the table as he sat down in front of her, "I have to admit that I was slightly desolate when I woke up this morning to find you gone. I didn't get your number, I didn't offer you a piece of bread or cracker—" she snorted as she ate, amused, " _and_ what's worse, I usually always offer a reading of John Donne as a 'thank you for having sex with me' parting gift."

She snorted again. "Which poem? The one where he curses the sun?"

Natsume cursed. "Fuck. Am I ever going to be able to impress you with poetry?"

She shrugged. "I mean, you did a pretty good job with Keats."

Natsume groaned. "You're no fun. You know poetry far too well for me to impress you."

She coyly smiled at him, before very cheekily tapping her foot against his, as if to say 'checkmate'. She concentrated on eating for the next few seconds, but seeing that she had finished more than half of her meal, and still had five minutes left, she continued the conversation. "I've been asking about you."

Natsume looked up at her. "Oh yeah? To who?"

"Some people on my course." Her reply was vague, emphasised by her enigmatic smile.

"What did you hear?"

"That you enjoy giving girls intimate literary lessons."

Natsume paused. She had heard correctly; there was no point denying it. Not that he would ever deny it: he wholeheartedly knew he loved having sex with women. And so what? He practiced safe sex, and the sex was always consensual. He never gave any indication that he wanted a relationship with the women he slept with either. So far, as far as he knew, he had broken no hearts, simply because he never promised anything substantial with them. He only made promises to women if the promises themselves were light and casual… like reciting poetry whilst fucking, or something of the sort.

But he supposed not everyone saw it like that. Holding a sigh, he cautiously asked, "Does that bother you?"

She looked at him, and he looked right back. "No." Her reply was sincere. "No, it doesn't bother me in the slightest… because…" she leaned in, her hands resting on the tabletops, close to his, "if you asked around about me, you'd soon find out that I _also_ enjoy offering intimate checkups."

Yuu's idea was absolutely glorious.

Natsume didn't care about being too hasty – right now, he was incredibly excited, in more than one way. "You busy tonight? I think I should pay the doctor a visit."

"Already? But you just had a checkup last night…" she teased, and laughed when he rolled his eyes at her.

"I'll have you know, last night was literature lesson on Romantic poetry—"

"A _very_ important lesson, yes." She teased again.

"—So I'd like to book an appointment with you, Doc, tonight."

Mikan stood up; she was finished with her meal. Two minutes to go. Natsume stood up, but he was nowhere near finished with his lunch.

"Nine o'clock, tonight. I'll come to yours. I'll bring my… _kit_ with me." She tucked her chair under the table. "See you then!"

And…. she was off.

And Natsume, well… let's just say he's never been this excited for a doctor's appointment before in his life so far.

* * *

A/N: Damn, that was long. Anyway, ta-da! Hope some of you enjoyed that. Please leave a review – even if you hated it!

So, Keats' poem was: 'On leaving some Friends at an early hour'. Disclaimed. And the John Donne poem Natsume alludes to is 'The Sun Rising'. Disclaimed.

No review reply my lovelies: this chapter is already far too long! Although I will say: sorry for the late update. Blame my fucking country: England. Brexit has happened, so my campaigning and protesting has begun… sad to think my country is run by flaming imbeciles. On a different (good?) note, all this corruption and racism has inspired me to start writing another chap of _Resistance_ , so there may be an update soon.


	4. Kuonji and Psychology

A/N: I don't own Alice Gakuen.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Kuonji and Psychology**

Ten days on, the Literary Club were congregated in the same seminar room, discussing 'experience'. Mochu was the one who brought the subject up up; 'Do you think it's possible to write about something you haven't experienced?' he had asked. The responses varied.

"No." Natsume answered first, very firmly. "I mean no virgin could come up with the shit I write."

Persona sighed at this, "Is sex the only thing you think about?"

Yuu responded to Natsume's statement. "What about the Church? Religious and mystical writing can be very explicit despite having been written by virgins."

Natsume snorted in disbelief, muttering, "I doubt they were all virgins…"

"Well on the topic of religion," Persona's voice was now studious and serious, "religious literature often explores unchartered territory. For example, the subject of life after death. They write with conviction despite the fact that nobody has ever experienced death to then tell the tale."

"Hey, hey," Mochu pulled the small cross necklace from underneath his shirt, and held it up for the group to see, "what do you think _we_ believe? We believe in Christ _because_ he came back from the dead!"

"What _you_ have is faith." Persona deadpanned. "And most of us don't have faith anymore."

"And _that's_ probably why it's so subjective and causes so much conflict. Religious writing is so didactic despite the lack of convincing experiences recorded." Natsume's tone was still firm. "So: yes, it is possible to write about something you haven't experienced, but it will not be very successful. Writing from experience is better."

Mochu frowned, "But doesn't that mean you're rejecting fiction as a genre? Most stories come from the imagination…"

"Stories come from the mind, which is shaped by your experience."

Persona snorted. "You have a Lockean way of thinking."

"Perhaps; but I'm just stating my preference for realism. That's all."

Suddenly, the door to their seminar room opened. All four of them casually looked towards the door, to inspect their intruder, but they all immediately straightened when they saw _who_ it was at the door.

Yuu felt his palms sweat, and his cheeks flush slightly. It was Z Kuonji.

Persona was the first to react. He stood up, bowing slightly. "Kuonji-sama. I… we did not know that you would be joining us today. If we did, we would have prepared some snacks—"

"I thought I'd surprise you all." Kuonji's voice was cold, and very soft. He spoke very slowly, enunciating every syllable clearly, as his dark eyes flitted around the room. "Ah. You must be Yuu, our newest member."

Yuu stumbled as he stood up. "H-Hello!" he stammered out, bowing deeply. "I'm Yuu Tobita! I—"

"Sit, sit."

Both Persona and Yuu sat back down.

Kuonji joined them.

To Yuu, the next few minutes felt like blur. He was so star-struck – so much so, that he had to consciously keep reminding himself to actually _listen_ to Kuonji. The excited screams in his mind did not simmer down easily. But once his shock of seeing and hearing Kuonji in the flesh subsided, a very different emotion took over.

Kuonji was not what he expected at all. Of course; the effect he had on all four of them was profound—Persona somewhat religiously listened to Kuonji's every word; the mouthy Natsume now studiously nodded; and the bleary-eyed Mochu looked completely sober (even sombre).

Clearly _here_ was a respected man.

Yet despite the effect he had on each member, it was clear that all the members were actually disheartened by Kuonji's presence, even words. In his slow voice, Kuonji was talking about the prevalent corruption within publishing companies.

For Yuu, the next few minutes felt somewhat cold, empty and hollow. He was too scared to speak – he felt crushed by Kuonji's elite presence: literary authority silenced both his voice and mind.

Kuonji's presence was oppressive in every sense.

By the end of the meeting, Yuu could not even look at him in the eye.

"I must go." were Kuonji's parting words. "Persona, walk with me."

Persona complied.

Kuonji did not even say goodbye – silently, he left the seminar room, with Persona following him like a shadow.

Yuu exhaled a breath he did not know he was holding.

Mochu looked at him with a knowing expression as he slapped Yuu twice on his back, in a brotherly fashion. "You still a fan of Kuonji?"

"I… I don't even remember what we just talked about."

"Don't worry. I felt like that too." Mochu's smile was sympathetic. "You'll get used to it though. Not to mention, he doesn't appear all too much, so no need to get tense."

Natsume on the other hand seemed unfazed. But perhaps his indifference came from experience, too. He was used to Kuonji's coldness and elitist attitude: he knew now not to expect anything else from him. Forgetting already about the exchange, he was checking the time on his phone.

"As much as I want to join this bitching session about Kuonji," Natsume stood up, "I have to go. Mikan's only got a fifteen minute lunch break today, so I can't really afford to be late."

" _Again?_ " Mochu questioned, his tone non-accusatory, but rather like a nosy grandma. "And let me guess – she's _also_ coming to yours tonight? Take it from me – you need to give your girlfriend some degree of space—"

"She's not my girlfriend," Natsume answered, as he walked to the door, "it's a casual thing. We're just two people who enjoy each other's company, both in and out of bed." But he didn't deny the fact that, yes, Mikan was also spending the night at his again tonight. He waved a goodbye, and left.

Whilst Mochu got some amusement out of Natsume's situation, Yuu on the other hand still seemed slightly dejected. Mochu noticed, and tried again to console Yuu: "Seriously Yuu, don't take it to heart. It might take a few more sessions for you to get used to his manner. And, it might not seem this way to you now, but even discussions like these are useful for us."

Yuu sighed. "I… I just thought he would talk about writing, rather than lecture us about money."

Mochu barked a laugh. "Oh, Yuu…"

Yuu glanced at Mochu, feeling once again like a child. "Are you going to call me naïve?"

Mochu shook his head. "Nah. I was just thinking the world needs more people like you."

"It's just that I feel like I had this certain _image_ in my head. In my head, I had dreamt out my first meeting with Kuonji. And in my imagination, we actually _spoke_ , rather than him just talking for fifteen minutes straight about corruption, money and infidelity. It's just… well, a bit depressing."

"Sounds like disillusionment to me." Mochu stood up, and held a hand out for Yuu. "Come on; let's go get some lunch." They both walked away from the seminar room, and Mochu continued, "I think being disappointed is part of growing up. It doesn't get any better as you age, but the more you age, the less you care. Perhaps that's the only good thing about growing old."

Yuu contemplated this. He asked (trying not to be so hopeful), "Does he ever read our work?"

"Yeah, he does." Mochu nodded. "He just didn't notify us that he was coming today, so we didn't bother giving our pieces from this week. Usually, he let's us know two or three days beforehand so we can hand it straight to him. But you'll have to ask Persona about that—he's in charge of that."

That was another concern of his. Yuu decided to confide in Mochu: "I'm not sure if I like Persona." He didn't know he could be so straightforward; he surprised himself with his own words.

Mochu, on the other hand, did not seem so surprised. "You've caught on, huh? Well, Anna," Mochu's girlfriend, "doesn't like him much either. From what she's heard from Nonoko, a pharmaceutical student," suddenly, Mochu lowered his voice and leaned towards Yuu as they walked down the corridor, "Persona is rumoured to be a drug dealer. And I know this warning may seem a bit rich coming from me, the stoner, but I would keep him at arm's length. I do think he is a nice guy though… just involved with some shady people."

* * *

Mochu's diagnosis seemed to be correct: disillusionment followed Yuu like a shadow from that day onwards, from the moment he woke, to the moment he fell asleep. The week passed both quickly and agonizingly slowly – whether it was suddenly or finally Friday, he wasn't quite sure.

He was sat on the grass in the quad, alone, thinking.

"Yuu?"

He looked up. It was a face he had not seen in a few weeks – Shino Shin, affectionately dubbed as Koko by his friends. He had met Koko back at Luca's party three weeks ago. As far as he remembered, Koko was an incredibly friendly psychology student.

"Hey," Yuu smiled, "how are you?"

Without an invite, Koko sat himself next to Yuu. "Ugh, _bored!_ " He released an exaggerated yawn, squeaking slightly. "I just had a three hour lecture block. I'm exhausted! How are you?"

"I…" Yuu sighed. "I'm fine, I guess."

Koko raised an eyebrow, excitedly, before he gushed, "Do I spy an opportunity?"

"Huh?"

"You seem down in the dumps."

"I am… but why are you excited by this, exactly?"

Koko actually clapped his hands, jubilantly. "Oh, excellent! Well, kiss your lucky stars tonight, Yuu, because I am going to psychoanalyze you – _for free!_ "

"…What?"

Koko was already pulling out a notebook from his shoulder bag, rummaging for a pen too. "Look – people don't think about psychology until they are unhappy. That's just the truth. What kind of people gets therapy? People with problems. And lucky for us psychologists, that's _most_ people. Why? Humans are endlessly complicated. I mean, have you ever seen a happy person buy a self-help book? So, I'm going to psychoanalyze you – don't worry, it's very simple! – with the purpose to make you feel better. Because at the end of the day, people like to understand themselves, to understand why they are feeling the way they do. In the past, people used to look at horoscopes to try to understand their personalities. After Freud, we don't need to look at the stars anymore: we just need to look within to get the answers. Aha!" He had finally found a pen. He opened his notebook. "Right. So can I psychoanalyze you?"

Yuu laughed unsurely. "I don't think you're going to take no for an answer, so sure."

"Okay," Koko passed the notebook and the pen to Yuu, "I'm going to tell a story, and you have to imagine it in your head. Sometimes I am going to ask you questions. Write down what your imagination sees here."

Yuu nodded, taking the paper and pen. "I'm ready."

Koko's smile faded, and now, in a very serious but calming tone, he started: "You're walking on a beach. Suddenly, an animal passes by you. What animal was it? Was it big, or small? Describe it in a few words. … Now, you keep walking but then you see a cage in the middle in front of you. What's in the cage? What kind of cage is it? Is it small, or spacious? Is it locked up tightly or open and free? … Finally, your path is blocked by a wall. What kind of wall stops your path? Is it tall, or small? What is the wall made out of? … _That's it!"_

Yuu blinked. "That's _it?_ There were only three questions…" He couldn't help feel sceptical – the test itself reminded him of being a child!

Koko nodded. "Now, read out your answers! What animal did you see?"

With a dubious look, Yuu shrugged and read out his scribbles. "Well… I saw small puppy. I'm not sure what breed it was, but it was small. It looked nice." He glanced up at Koko, and seeing his encouraging smile, he continued, "Um… the cage was empty; it was made of steel but it was very rusty. Then, the wall was very tall, very oppressive – made of metal."

Koko nodded, understandingly, pensively and sagely. "I see… well, here's your analysis. So, the animal you saw is supposed to be yourself: you see yourself as a small, nice-looking puppy, but the fact that you're unsure of its breed might indicate that you're unsure of yourself. Not to mention, the fact that you're still a puppy might suggest innocence… basically, you're not yet a dog. The cage is supposed to represent an intimate relationship – the fact that your cage is empty means that you don't have a partner in your life yet. The steel could indicate that you want something strong and substantial in a relationship, but the rust perhaps shows your reluctance? Maybe you're not quite ready for a relationship. Finally, the wall is supposed to show how close or far death is. Don't worry – your wall was strong, meaning that death is still very far away from you. But the fact that your wall was oppressive might mean that you're finding life quite oppressive at the moment." Koko breathed, before he smiled. "How did I do? Was that quite accurate?"

Yuu didn't want to admit _how_ accurate Koko was. Granted, there were _a lot_ of 'maybes', but overall, it was truthful. He opened and closed his mouth. Then, "I—"

"Koko!"

Both Koko and Yuu looked up: two girls were walking towards them, smiling, holding large folders in their hands. Yuu recognized the one of the right to be Hotaru Imai, yet he did not know who the pretty brunette was on her left. It was the brunette who had called Koko's name, and Koko now replied back, with an equally sunny voice, "Mikan, my love!"

"Good morrow, darling!" Mikan called back in jest, flicking Koko on the head before she sat down next to him. Hotaru joined them on the grass too.

"Hello, Yuu."

"Hello Hotaru-san!" Yuu warmly said.

"It's good to see you again." Hotaru faintly smiled. "We should go out for a drink again soon."

Yuu nodded, smiling, happy. "That's a great idea." He promised.

"Oh, you must be Tobita Yuu? From the Literary Writing Club?" Mikan asked, inclining her body towards him. Yuu nodded, somewhat shyly. She was incredibly pretty and bright, with her big eyes looking excitedly at him, with sincere curiousity. "I've heard so much about you! You've certainly impressed Hotaru over here. Ooh," she glanced down at the notebook Yuu was holding, "are you writing a short story for your meeting? Mind if I take a look?"

Yuu blushed. "Oh, no, this isn't—"

Koko explained for Yuu, "No, _this_ is something more important than a short story… this is Yuu's psyche!"

Mikan raised an eyebrow. Hotaru narrowed her eyes, then sighed, before she looked at Yuu in a sorry manner. "Did he psychoanalyze you with some bullshit story about a beach and a cage?"

"…Um," Yuu's eyes were flitting between Koko and Hotaru, "um…"

Mikan laughed. " _Again,_ Koko? Are you planning to do this test on _everybody_ you meet?"

"Psychology is such a silly subject," Hotaru added, with an entertained expression, as she rested her chin on her hand, which was propped up on her leg, "honestly, it's offensive that it's even categorised as a science."

" _You_ only hate psychology because when _I_ did this test on you in first year, I hit the nail right on the head!" harrumphed the affronted Koko, sticking his tongue out childishly at Hotaru. "You think you're a mystery but three mere questions told me so much about you, and that scares you."

"Adorable, but no." Hotaru shook her head.

"What animal did you see?" Yuu asked, genuinely curious.

Hotaru's lips thinned. Mikan answered instead, "Hotaru saw a cat. Self-sufficient, you know. I saw an orangutan! I love orangutans…" She smiled at Yuu, but then, she jumped as if she realized something. "Oh, I'm sorry! I haven't introduced myself. I'm Mikan Sakura – third year medic." She gave him a small wave.

"Oh! _You're_ Natsume's..." Yuu had spoken before he thought. Immediately, he flushed. He didn't know if saying 'Natsume's fling' was appropriate or not (probably not – what girl likes to be categorised as someone's _fling?_ ). He regretted his words. He tried to rectify his mistake, "I-I mean…"

Understandingly, Mikan smiled, and said with ease, "That's right. I'm Natsume's new friend."

Yuu couldn't believe he didn't realize who this was until now. Of course; _of course_ this was Mikan Sakura, Natsume's current muse. _Of course_ Natsume's muse would be someone extraordinary – extraordinarily pretty and kind. He expected no less of Natsume, after all. Her long brown hair, her small charming face, her intelligent smile, her easeful laughter, her clear manner of speaking … Yuu could see exactly why Natsume was so attracted to and besotted with her. She was lovely.

Koko beside him, however, gasped. " _What!_ Natsume, as in _Natsume Hyuuga_ my flatmate from first year?" When Mikan nodded, Koko gasped again. "You're going out with him?!"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? I said his 'new friend'! Friend, Koko, _friend_."

Koko snorted. "You mean his new 'bed' friend."

Unashamed, and straightforwardly Mikan replied, "I guess you could call us bed friends."

Koko then cried out, as if a sudden revelation descended from the heavens, "Friends with benefit!"

Mikan unabashedly shrugged, nodding. "You could call it that too. Call it whatever you like, Koko."

Koko abruptly grabbed Mikan's hand with both of his hands. "Mikan, my love… I thought I was your one and only!"

"Hey, I'm not the one dating Sumire!"

"What about me, hmm?" They all turned and looked up, to see Luca Nogi and a tall, beautiful girl with dark green hair standing beside their little huddled group. It was the girl who had spoke – she had one hand on her hip, and one thin eyebrow raised.

Koko squeaked, before letting Mikan's hand go as if it were on fire. He shot up, to stand beside her. "Sumi-chan!" He cried affectionately, only to throw his arms around her. He was shorter than her, and so had to tiptoe to place his arms around her neck. "I missed you!"

"That's Sumire Shouda," Hotaru murmured to Yuu, "Koko's girlfriend."

Yuu felt his jaw drop slightly. Sumire Shouda was _gorgeous_ , and whilst Koko was… cute, in a silly, sloppy way, never would he have guessed them to be a couple upon first glance. She seemed so regal, and well put together, whilst Koko looked as if he got a child to dress him everyday. She seemed like the type of woman who got her nails done every two weeks, whilst Koko looked as if he hadn't got a haircut in a year.

Shoving her boyfriend away from her, Sumire sat down besides Mikan. "Hey, babe. How are you?"

"I'm good," Mikan turned to Luca. "Hey Luca!"

"Hey guys," Luca joined them on the grass. Koko too sat back down, and squeezed himself next to Sumire.

Sumire looked around, then asked, "Who's this?" She was gazing at Yuu. "I haven't seen you around."

"I'm Tobita Yuu." Yuu answered, his back straightening. It was slightly unnerving to be stared at so intently by Sumire's piercing green eyes. "I'm a first year Literature student. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Sumire Shouda. I do veterinary sciences with Luca. Nice to meet you too."

Mikan nudged Yuu, and friendly said, "Sumire might act and talk like a bitch, but you should know she's actually one of the nicest girls I know."

"Thank you for that backhanded compliment, you bitch." Sumire barked, but her eyes were soft and kind.

Koko didn't like to be ignored by his girlfriend, and so attempted to get her attention by saying, "Sumi-chan, Sumi-chan! Guess what! Mikan is screwing Natsume Hyuuga!"

Sumire glanced at her boyfriend, "Luca got there first. He just told me."

Dejected, Koko slumped and pouted.

Sumire turned to Mikan. "Just because I'm not squealing right now doesn't mean I didn't squeal when Luca told me ten minutes ago. Mikan!" Mikan jumped at her sudden raised voice. "Is it true?"

"Yes." Mikan then sighed, "Why is this such a big deal? You guys _all_ know what I'm like. I like to screw people; I shamelessly enjoy it. This isn't my first casual relationship, and it most likely won't be my last. So why is everyone gasping and raising their voice just because it's Hyuuga?"

"Um, _maybe_ because he's fucking hot?" Sumire answered, in a 'duh-are-you-dumb' voice. "You're fucking the most fuckable piece of meat on campus!"

Luca seemed uncomfortable at the fact that his best friend was reduced to a 'fuckable piece of meat', and Yuu could only blush at Sumire's brazen declaration. Hotaru snorted, amused. Koko, on the other hand, cried, horrified. "Sumi-chan! _Nooo_ —"

Ignoring Koko's jealous cries, Mikan joked, "Good thing I'm not a vegetarian."

Sumire and Hotaru laughed.

Somewhat worried to interrupt this girl-talk, Luca cleared his voice before saying, "On the subject of Natsume... Mikan," Mikan looked at Luca, "Natsume was looking for you."

Girl-talk resumed at once: Hotaru, looked at Mikan and groaned, "God, he's getting needy, huh?"

Mikan snorted, "You don't know the half of it. You should have heard him this morning: _Mikan_ ," her voice contorted into a low but babyish tone as she started to imitate Natsume from earlier this morning, " _Mikaaannnn I'm coldddd, I'm hungwyyyyy_ , _Mikannn come backkk, Mikaaaannnnn!_ " Sumire cackled with laughter, clapping her hands manically, "God," (Mikan's normal voice returned), "men are such whining babies!"

"Pathetic," Hotaru spat out, with a very amused grin.

Yuu paled at the thought of Natsume crying like a baby for Mikan. But for some reason, it didn't seem too farfetched.

"You're in luck, honey," Sumire said, turning to Koko, with a big smile, "after hearing _that_ , Natsume Hyuuga is no longer so appealing to me anymore." Koko's eyes brightened. "You're my number one, babe."

" _Oh_ , Sumi-chan!" Koko jubilantly wailed, throwing himself on his beloved girlfriend. "I knew that you would come to your senses and see that I'm twice the man Natsume is!"

"Twice the _baby_ …" Hotaru corrected, causing the girls to fall about in laughter again.

"Oh, _shit!_ " Mikan piped up, all of a sudden, laughter gone. "I'm going to be late for my assessment!" Gathering her folder, she stood up. "It was nice to meet you, Yuu!" She then transferred her smile to the rest of her friends; "I'll see you all soon! Oh, and Luca - thanks for the message. I'll contact Natsume after my assessment. If he pesters you again before I contact him though, tell him I'm done at six today."

Luca nodded, "Will do."

"Thanks! See you all soon!" Mikan rushed off as they all waved her off, Sumire calling after her with a kind, "Bye, slut!"

Turning, Mikan shouted back just as kindly, "Bye, seaweed witch!"

In that moment, Yuu realized how _little_ he actually understood girls.

It was only a few hours later that Yuu also realized that he was no longer disillusioned. _Maybe_ , he thought, _maybe Koko's psychoanalysis isn't complete and utter bullshit after all._

* * *

A/N: Hello! A bit more 'set-up'. You'll be seeing Mikan and Natsume together in the next chapter. And now, review replies…

 **Ginger Velvet:** Wow, thanks so much for your long review! It was great to read. Yeah, England is a mess right now. And the worst part is, it doesn't look like it's going to get any better soon… Still in a shock, to be honest. Anyway – back to the story! Thanks for letting me know about the typos and grammatical errors. I'll have to go back and check/correct them (I'm so lazy…). Glad you enjoyed the juicy bits, and if you do end up reciting poetry (or singing for that matter) next time, I will be happy (lol) to know that my writing inspired you in that department, haha. Glad you like this witty Mikan. I feel like in this fandom, the easy option is just to characterize Mikan as a silly, naïve girl, that squeals, bounces and falls over all the time, but I dunno… I would say she's pretty damn assertive in the manga and anime? Maybe not as book-smart, but she knows how to carry herself confidently. In this chapter, I hoped to fill her out more – hope you still like her. And yup: all the kink IS here, mwhahaha. Thanks for the review!

 **SunBabyBoss:** Hello, thanks for your review! I'm glad you like my take on Natsume and Mikan. Yeah, I think I've definitely grown up and away from their 10 year old mannerisms… I mean, being in my early 20s, it would be creepy if I still thought like a 10 year old, my God. Anyway, thanks for your review!

 **Lexi1989:** Yay, glad you liked the previous chapter. Yup, characters are OOC, but I hope that won't be a problem for you, or any other readers. Glad you like my idea thus far! And hopefully you're not too disappointed that you did not get to accompany Natsume on his doctor's appointment, haha. Thanks for your review!

 **Anilissa** : Will they fall for each other, you ask? *cackles* Well, my friend, only time will tell… mwhahaha. Thanks for your review!

Also, try the 'psychology' test out on your friends! It's quite fun, haha – some of my friends came up with the most extraordinary answers! It's not a serious test, mind you…

Also, Persona said, "You have a **Lockean** way of thinking." – for those who don't know what this means: John Locke was a philosopher back in the day, and he philosophized that we are all born as a 'blank slate', and our characteristics come from our experiences. Essentially, the blank slate (me, or you, or he, she, it) is 'coloured' in by their surroundings and experiences. So, it differs from the previous orthodox ideas of predestination and such, as John Locke states that experiences determine your life, not God etc. (Very simplified explanation – google is your best friend!)


	5. Feminist Beer

**A/N:** Sorry for the late update!

* * *

Chapter 5: Feminist Beer

Mochu, Yuu and Natsume were all sat on the university picnic tables, having lunch. It was a mild day, with spots of sunshine and a nice, steady cool breeze – perfect for sandwiches, warm tea and friends.

For now, they were casually talking about the sandwich collection in the nearest convenience store, discussing whether there should be more tomatoes in the sandwich or not. It was light conversation – inconsequential chatter that bounced off into the air, but to Yuu, it was exactly these sorts of conversations that he lacked his whole life. A small and thankful smile played on his lips as he ate his sandwich with his friends.

"If you want more tomatoes in the sandwich," Mochu was saying to Natsume, "you should just get a tomato sandwich."

"Just give me your tomatoes." Natsume countered back, opening his sandwich, holding it up to Mochu.

"Wow," a voice said, from beside the picnic table, "there I was thinking that you boys always and only talk about literature and philosophy." It was Mikan. She was smiling down at them, amused. "How wrong I was. Ignorance really is bliss, huh?"

Natsume reeled in his sandwich. He didn't get the tomatoes from Mochu, but that didn't really matter anymore. "I thought you had a lab assessment?"

"Yeah, well, two people fainted so it's been postponed. They've given us a thirty-minute break, to give the two enough time to recover. So here I am."

Mochu furrowed his eyebrows. "Why did they faint?"

Casually, Mikan replied, "Dissection of the heart. Really bloody, even with a dead body."

Natsume by this point had scooted over to make room for Mikan beside him. True, he was sitting next to Yuu, whilst Mochu on the opposite side had an empty space beside him, but he just assumed that Mikan would want to sit next to him. (Not to mention, he wanted Mikan to sit next to him. He wanted to put his hand on her knee. It was comforting.) But despite his scooting; despite pushing Yuu to make space for Mikan; despite it all, Mikan easefully just sat next to Mochu, not even realizing, let alone appreciating Natsume's efforts. Yuu noticed of course, and with an entertained smile, he pushed Natsume back, reclaiming some space.

"God, I hate you medics." Mochu grumbled. "You make the rest of us seem so insignificant."

"Nonsense. You dissect poetry, and I dissect people. Same thing, really." By her smile, it was clear she was teasing. But then, her eyes cleared; an idea had just popped in her mind. "Oh, that would be an interesting poem. One of you should write it. Treat words like body parts, cut them up, rearrange them, fill them with something new, then sew it all back together."

"You certainly bring new ideas to this table," Mochu commented, impressed, "hey – Natsume told me you sometimes read his stories. Could you read mine too someday? You might give some new perspective to my work."

Natsume looked scandalized at this suggestion, and even more so when Mikan nonchalantly agreed to Mochu's wishes. Some part of him (well, a very large part of him) wanted to tell Mochu to ask his girlfriend, Anna, to read his stories, not Mikan. Yes, Mikan was smart and well read, and not _his_ girlfriend, but… but…

Natsume was lost for words. He couldn't articulate at all how he felt right then. He felt offended that she didn't sit next to him; offended that she treated his friends in that same light, teasing manner and frankly upset that she agreed to Mochu. But rationally speaking, there was no reason to be offended or upset. She was not his girlfriend, and he was not her boyfriend. His feelings were irrational, unjustified and unfair. And so, he was lost for words, for he knew that he was being baseless.

That didn't mean that his face hid his conflicted and turbulent emotions well. Yuu was the first to spot it, but soon after, Mochu noticed it too. The two immediately (and, well, wrongly) assumed what Natsume's look meant: 'stop cockblocking me'.

Yuu stood up first. Mochu followed suit.

"Where are you going?" Mikan couldn't help but ask, as their departure seemed so abrupt.

Not bothering to be coy, Mochu just winked. "We'll leave you two together."

Mikan seemed confused. "Why?" For as far as she knew, she had just stumbled across all three boys having lunch. She had interrupted them, and their insightful conversation about tomatoes. She had no intention of breaking up their lunch plans. That was not why she came here. "You haven't even finished your lunch." She was looking at their half-eaten sandwiches. "Don't be silly. Sit down."

Unknown to her, and away from her view, Natsume was motioning his head at his two friends. They understood that jerk of the head plainly: Natsume was asking them to leave them alone.

Both Yuu and Mochu amusedly sighed, looked at each other, before telling Mikan that they had to go to the library, and not to worry about their sandwiches, for there was a corner in the library where food could be consumed. They bid her goodbye, and waved at Natsume, reminding him of a lecture in an hour.

As soon as they left, Natsume left his side of the table, and sat himself down next to Mikan. Quickly, he put his hand on her knee. It was not done suggestively; her knee was simply the most comforting hand-rest. She responded by quietly leaning closer in to him.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her then. He wanted to plead to her not to read Mochu's stories; he wanted to ask why she didn't sit next to him; and he wanted to know why she didn't seem to care as much as he did. But he daren't do so. So, instead, he just silently finished eating him sandwich with one hand.

"Hey, gimme a bite."

He passed her the sandwich. She took a bite, and passed the sandwich back. "Oh, you're right." She said as she finished swallowing. "This needs more tomatoes."

And just like that, Natsume's unsettled feelings settled down. His worries, pleas and questions all faded away into the back of his mind. He realized that this was not the time to be petty. Now was the time to appreciate Mikan's presence; they did not have plans to meet tonight, so the fact that she was here now, in the afternoon, beside him, was providential and fortunate.

With this newfound feeling of auspiciousness, he thought he could be honest. "I'm happy you're here."

She laughed. "Wow; that was one of the sweetest things you've ever said."

"I always say nice things about you."

She rolled her eyes, diverted. "Yeah, about my ass or something."

"But your ass _is_ nice."

She glared at him. "You're hopeless."

Natsume laughed. "I'm joking." He glanced down at her chest. "You have a nice heart too."

Seeing where his eyes were directed, she snorted disbelievingly, "Yes, I'm sure you mean heart, not chest."

She took his sandwich from his hand and took two bites. Despite her earlier wary tone, glare, snort and sighs, she now glanced up at him, and smiled with her mouth closed. He smiled back at her, patting his hand against her knee. However, once she swallowed her mouthful, a more pensive and serious expression took over. "So, it's you, Mochu, Yuu and…? What's the name of your fourth member again? The tall one?"

"Rei Serio. But we all call him Persona."

She nodded, taking note. "So, your little club is made up of four male students? With a famous male author-professor as a mentor?"

"Z Kuonji," Natsume clarified, not knowing where Mikan was going with all these questions, "yes. That's right."

Her intention was made clear with her next frank query, "Why aren't there any women in your club?"

"Well, they applied. But then again, nearly everyone in Yuu's year applied, but just Yuu got through. Hey, hey," he noticed her lips thinning, "we're not a sexist club. It just happens that all our current members are men. That doesn't mean we wouldn't accept a woman in the future. We're just looking for good writers."

"When candidates apply, is it done anonymously? Or do they stick their name at the end of their short story?"

"They stick their name at the end of the story."

"Don't you think it should be anonymous? So you don't unconsciously make assumptions?"

"Look – it's not my fault that Yuu Tobita wrote a better story than Rika Yamazaki, or whoever. It's not my fault that Rika Yamazaki decided to write about a dreamy summer love whilst Yuu Tobita decided write about the deafening depression one feels when summer ends."

Mikan looked angry now. Pushing herself slightly away from Natsume, she asked, "Alright, first of all, _why_ are you making this about yourself? I never said it was _your_ fault. I'm just voicing my concern about the _fact_ that your 'literary' club is compromised exclusively of men—"

"We _invited_ women to submit their work too, but—" Natsume started to defend himself and his club.

"Do not interrupt me." Mikan shot back. " _I'm_ speaking, Natsume." Seeing her ire, he backed down. She continued, "Second of all, your point about Rika Yamazaki is exactly why I think you should make the submission process anonymous. You just picked a random girl's name and said she wrote about love in a painfully sneering voice. Your example rests on your prejudice and clichéd notion that women can _only_ write about love. But what's worse, you make fun of that. There's nothing wrong in writing about love. Yet when Jane Austen writes about it, her novels are seen as chick-lit, but when Fitzgerald writes about love, his novels are hailed as the cornerstone of modern American literature?"

"Well, Fitzgerald _is_ a better novelist than Jane Austen…"

Clearly Mikan did not agree. "I don't care if you think he's better or not. That's your subjective opinion, and literature is open to subjective interpretation. My point is, a man and a woman could write the _same_ story, about love and society, yet the man's story will always be deemed to be better. Just look at your syllabus!"

"That's not true. It's just men are often better writers than women. Most writers _are_ men, that's why our syllabus has more male writers—"

Mikan now looked scandalized. "I can't believe you just said that. Natsume, you're so ignorant."

It was the first time someone had ever called him ignorant. Throughout his life, he had always been praised; always been told how smart he was; how he was different, _better_ ; how he was original; how he was destined for greatness—

"You _love_ the Romantics. You've proved that to me the first night I met you." Mikan continued. "And if you love them as much as you claim, you would know that in the Romantic period, there were more female novelists and poets than male. You would know that Wordsworth ripped his ideas from Joanna Baillie. You would know that Wordsworth took most of his verse material from his sister, Dorothy's letters and journal. You would know that Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley and the rest of the big male poets were not well known in their contemporary society. Yet now, they _represent_ the movement, and now, the female poets and writers alike are pushed into the backstage, their legacies obscured. And this is what _keeps_ on happening! Why is Mary Ann Evans remembered as George Eliot? Because she felt compelled to use a male pen name, in the hopes that her novels would be taken seriously. Why do you think J.K Rowling decided to publish only the best selling franchise as J.K rather than Joanna Rowling? Because she knew exactly what kind of society we live in. She and Mary Ann Evans knew that we live in a society where a man's word is more credible than a woman's. And your statement, citing that there are 'more male writers' is infuriating. Haven't you read Virginia Woolf's _A Room of One's Own_? How could a literature student even _say_ that? It's just as Austen says: men have always held the pen; women can sometimes use the pen, but ultimately, the men _own_ the pen."

(It was probably after that mammoth of a speech Natsume realized how much he valued Mikan. She challenged him. She put his intellect and beliefs into perspective. She illuminated his ignorance. She reminded him he was just a guy in his early twenties.)

"Look," Natsume voice was even, "I understand you. I… I misspoke. What you've said is right—"

"If you think so, then you should write to the Literature course convener! Tell them you're concerned by the lack of female writers and poets on the course." She leaned closer back into him, and he was momentarily relieved and pleased when she did not pull away from his touch. "This is Alice University. It's the best university in the _country._ But the gaping lack of diversity on the Literature course is astounding. You should also point out the lack of poetry and books written by ethnic minorities on the syllabus. Surely you're bored of reading stories and poems written by dead old white men?"

(He somewhat wished Mochu and Yuu had been with him, despite his earlier behavior. He wished they had just heard her zealous and vehement speech.)

"I'll write to the convener, I promise. In fact, you can even edit the letter – how's that?"

"I would like that," the passionate flush faded slightly from her cheeks as a thankful smile crept up on her lips, "thank you."

Hoping to hear more of that thankful tone, Natsume continued promising, "And next time Kuonji decides to show his ass to one of our meeting, I'll bring up the anonymous submission idea."

"Thank you," she said, now resting her hand on his thigh. She squeezed it gently, affectionately.

"So, how do you know so much about the Ali-U Literature syllabus?"

She shrugged, and vaguely replied, "My mum. She likes to know these things."

"Oh," he was slightly confused, and urged for clarification, "is she a professor?"

Mikan shook her head.

"Educational moderator?"

Mikan shook her head.

"Does she write for a newspaper? You know; the people who decide the National University Rankings at the end of every academic year?" At this point, he was guessing in mirth.

Mikan did more than shake her head this time. She had also noticed his new founded teasing tone. "No, she doesn't." She casually glanced at him, in a purposefully relaxed manner. "But she _is_ a writer… my mum's Yuka Sakura."

For the first time, Mikan wiped Natsume's smirk off his face, clean and quickly. Even his jaw slackened (bonus points!). His eyes very quickly flashed from incredulity to utter disbelief. "… _What!_ … You mean Yuka Sakura, the Yuka Sakura who wrote _Sea of Dreams? Death Cake? Crying Alchemist?_ … _that_ Yuka Sakura?"

Mikan cupped Natsume's cheeks with one hand, and squeezed it as if he were a child, "Yes. That Yuka Sakura is my mother." She confirmed it. She said it so easily. But to Natsume, it was as if she had just confirmed that she was from a parallel universe.

"… _What!_ No way! What… Yuka Sakura is—I mean, your _mum_ is one of my favourite contemporary writers—"

"Oh, is she?" Mikan loftily smiled, raising her eyebrows, now resting her chin on her raised arms. "Well, I wonder what my mother would say if she knew I was sleeping with a man who think female authors are second-rate,"

"I don't think that—"

"She'll certainly be personally offended. Years and _years_ she's had to put up with critics comparing her work to Murakami's… she's fed up, you know? Not to mention, I'm sure she'll be horrified at my taste in men." She was outright teasing him now.

Natsume was trying to process everything. Then, he noticed something very weird, extraordinary and momentous. "You mean to tell me that I've been fucking Yuka Sakura's daughter?! That I've gone down on Yuka Sakura's daughter?"

"The one and only daughter," she bowed her head slightly, as if curtseying him, "tell me – feeling any wiser as a result?"

He gaped. "I can't believe it..." He really couldn't believe it – when he looked down at her, she didn't see Yuka Sakura's daughter. It was strange to think of her as both Yuka Sakura's daughter and Mikan Sakura. To him, she was Mikan Sakura. He _only_ saw Mikan Sakura: he only saw Mikan Sakura's impish grin; Mikan Sakura's clear eyes; Mikan Sakura's lovely, lovely lips…

"Do me a favour and don't tell Mochu or Yuu. Not many people know this, and I want to keep it that way. Especially from you Literature students, or else all the boys and girls will stampede through my door, demanding a signature." She glanced at her watch. "I have to go. You should also get ready for your lecture." But she was not rushing – she had time to say a little goodbye to him. Still sitting by him, she now cupped both her hands around his cheek. She kissed him; it was both chaste and passionate, with just her lips pressed firmly against his. He held onto her. "Do me another favour… read up on feminist critics of the 20th century. You know, just in case I feel nice enough to introduce you to my mother one day. She won't like you unless you've read Gillian Beer – just a tip."

"I'll keep that in mind." He kissed her again.

It was a mild day, with spots of sunshine and a nice, steady cool breeze – perfect for sandwiches, conversation and warm kisses.

* * *

To: Yamada, Serena  
Cc: -  
Subject: Essay title revision

Dear my favourite Professor and personal tutor,

I hope this email finds you well.

At my tutorial yesterday, I told you that for my next essay I wanted to write about the punctuation format in _Tristram Shandy._ I've decided I don't want to write that essay anymore. Is it all right if I change my essay title to: _Gillian Beer's reading of Virginia Woolf?_ I want to explore feminist criticism of the 20th century, and I thought I could start with that. I hope this is not a problem (especially as I've already started the essay).

Also, I thought I should let you know that I'm currently rereading _Persuasion_. I know that I told you I didn't care much for Jane Austen two weeks ago, but I want to retract that statement. I'm enjoying it. It's shrewd, subtle, smart and surprisingly spirited. It's funny. Overwhelming funny, actually. I guess Woolf was right; Austen _is_ difficult to catch in the act of greatness'. I'm regretful that I didn't see her cleverness before. Just thought I'd let you know, so it's on the record.

Have a good evening,

Natsume Hyuuga

* * *

 **A/N:** I know, it's so ironic/incorrect that Mikan talks so about more ethnically diverse writers, when they go to a university in Tokyo. It's really infuriating that I keep writing about English-speaking writers when they go to a Japanese university (I feel like I'm whitewashing the curriculum), but I'm just absolutely ignorant about Japanese literature… I'm sorry. I'm hoping you'll all look past that!

Review replies…

 **Lexi1989:** Sorry if you're disappointed again by the lack of spectacle (wink wink), but it's coming (omg lol), I promise! Next chapter. Anyway, thank you for your review! I'm glad you liked the 'girl-talk', but more glad that I made a crazy-laughing-at-her-phone girl out of you, haha. And yup, Mikan is definitely comfortably with her sexuality. Hope you liked her in this chapter too! Hope to hear from you again.

 **SunBabyBoss:** Thank you for your review!

 **Miss Evana:** Thanks for your review! I'm glad you like my portrayal of the girls. And yeah… as you can probably tell from this chapter, I'm just fed up all around by the way women are portrayed and treated by literature and reality alike. And on a different note, yes I am English. You said you're French – I hope all of your family and friends are safe. I'm sorry about Nice. It's absolutely horrific and devastating. France to me represents freedom, democracy and cheese! My favourite things. Sending all my love to France. Best wishes xxx

 **Anilissa:** Hello again, thanks for your review! Story is slowly but surely unfolding; I hope you liked this chapter. Thanks again! :)

 **CrimsonEyes Loves HazelOrbs:** Haha, your reviews made me laugh. Glad I've supplied a new fantasy, I guess…? Haha. Anyway, I'm glad you like my characterisation of Mikan. To be honest, everyone's take on her is going to be different, but here's mine. But haha, I guess there is more excuse as to why Natsume might be portrayed as an asshole, as in the manga, he starts off as a complete prick. I think my Natsume is more OOC than my Mikan. But yes, here, he is less closed-off, and borderline psychotic, but rather (as you say) 'a realistic, regular guy' who likes having sex. On a different note: congrats on graduating! Well done. I laughed at how you said 'reminds me of college days', as if it's some long and distant memory, but then you say you 'just got out of college'. Haha. Sorry for the lack of lemon in this chapter, but hopefully you liked Natsume and Mikan's talk too. And your assumption is correct! I am indeed an EngLit student, guilty as charged. You said 'too' – I'm assuming you are too? Anyway, thanks for your review!

 **Ginger Velvet:** No review can ever be too long! I love long reviews. So here's my long reply: ugh, I give up on England. It's just shit followed by more shit every day. I read this great article which said that the summer of 2016 will go down in history as the summer of shit, and I just couldn't agree more… As you say, Mikan would most likely not be all happy-go-lucky; I mean, how could any be so when the world is just so… crap? And really? You hear/see discussions like 'experience v.s. reality' at your campus pretty often? Sign me up—I'm transferring to your uni! Haha, I'm kidding. But I'm not kidding when I say that when I walk around my campus, all I hear is people talking about tinder, haha. Re: Koko's psychology test – my friend asked me those questions one evening. She said that a (tinder, lol) date asked her those questions on her first date with him. Anyway, I'm glad you like the gal-friendship – I agree when you say that many writers only bring in friends when seeking love advice. This isn't just in fanfiction though. Have you ever heard of the Bechdel test? If not, very simply put, (paraphrasing) it's a test that some critics use to highlight the gender inequality in fiction. The fiction passes the test if it meets all these requirements: there are two or more women in the fiction who talk to each other about something other than a man. Maybe that didn't make much sense – google is your best friend! It's really interesting and insightful. Okay, lol, excuse MY novella-length review reply. Thank you for your review! Hope you review again.

Next chapter will be steamy, I promise!


	6. Baby and Polka

**A/N:** Hello! So, heads up, **smut and fluff** in this one chapter! Be warned: either you will squirm at the smut or you will drown in fluff.

 **Chapter 6: Baby and Polka**

* * *

 _iMessage_

M: _You still up for studying together?_

N: _Of course. 12, in the quad, right?_

M: Yeah. _I'm ready, so I'm going to head over there now. See you soon_

N: _I_ _'m already here. By the way, it's chilly. Dress warmly_

* * *

The weather was getting unpredictable – out of nowhere and unexpectedly dark clouds would gather, to then pour, to then disappear, leaving sunny skies in its wake. And on that Saturday, Mikan and Natsume had plans to study outside together, both having a lot of work. But not even ten minutes after they had opened their books on the outdoor picnic tables, the rain came tumbling down.

"Shit," Natsume gathered his notebook in his bag, quickly so no pages would get wrinkled. "Library?"

Mikan groaned, as she stuffed everything in her bag. "You know I hate the library. Let's just go back to yours. We can study there."

They stood up. Mikan assumed Natsume would heartily agree to her suggestion, but to her surprise, he countered back, "Why don't we go to yours for once? You _always_ come to mine. I've never been to yours yet."

This was true. Every time, they met at Natsume's; Mikan had never extended an invitation to her room. And at his proposal, she seemed slightly reluctant. She kept opening and closing her mouth, unsure of what to say. It wasn't as if she had anything to hide – it was just that she always preferred sharing other people's beds, rather than her own.

Natsume cajoled her, "Come on, it's unfair that _my_ sheets always get dirty. Do you know how much I've spent on washing these past few weeks? … Come on," he was using his bedroom voice, low and pleading, "let's go get your sheets dirty for once."

Mikan sighed. But then, "Fine," she agreed, with a slight smile, " _but_ before you befoul my sheets, we're going to study. I _really_ need to get this done. Come on, let's go. This way…"

He eagerly nodded, promising to be good. He didn't quite show the extent of his excitement as he walked besides her, following her quick steps. He felt fifteen again – he felt the same way he did as when he got invited back to a girl's bedroom for the first time.

The rain was pounding down now, and their quick steps soon upgraded to runs: shielding their heads with their bags, they dashed through Ali-U's campus.

"Here, here," Mikan called, grabbing Natsume's arm, as he nearly missed the corner, "over here."

They weren't drenched, but they weren't dry either. Mikan fumbled with her key, but soon enough, she opened the door to her small and comfortable room, and they both entered, escaping from the relentless rain. Mikan sighed in relief as she turned on the lights, dropping her bag to the floor. Natsume took his shoes off, before he looked up to inspect her room. It was neither the messiest nor the cleanest room he had ever been in – paper littered her desk, but no rubbish resided on the floor. Make-up and hair-ties was sprawled in front of a small mirror. Her perfume rested on her beside table, next to her reading glasses. Here lived Mikan's habits and quotidian lifestyle, in her sweet-smelling room.

He liked her room more than he liked his own room. But he would never admit that; instead, he simply commented, "It smells nice in here."

"It's probably all my diffusers," Mikan answered distractedly – she was currently struggling to pull her boots off her feet, "I'm slightly obsessed. I've got so many."

"You should give me one to put in my room." Natsume casually suggested, as he took his jacket off, hanging it on the door-knob. "That'll stop you bitching about my 'pungent aftershave', was it?"

"It _is_ pungent—oof!" She stumbled slightly after pulling her boots too hard, making her lose balance. Automatically, she grabbed Natsume to stabilize herself, and he grasped her hand to secure her.

"You alright?"

Her boots popped off. "Aha!" she jubilantly cried. "There we go. Thanks." She stepped into her flat, pulling her coat off. "Make yourself at home."

"Do you have a towel?" Natsume asked. "I'm kind of wet."

Mikan shrugged, and to Natsume's surprise (but mostly to his delight), he saw Mikan pull her wet top off her. "Just take your clothes off. I'm studying in bed." As if to illustrate her point, with her folder in one hand, and her other hand tugging her jeans off, she fumbled her way towards her bed. In her bra and underwear, she got into the covers, comfortably nestled in, before placing her work on her lap.

Noticing he didn't follow, she said, "Oh? Would you rather study on the desk? I'll get you a towel—"

"No, no," Natsume pulled his jumper and t-shirt off in one swift motion, and once he had stripped down to his boxers, he slid into bed besides Mikan, with his work in his hand. Her bed was soft and clean. "Perfectly happy here."

She smiled. "Good. Let me know if you want something to drink later on." She then picked up her reading glasses from her bedside table, preparing for her study session. Soon enough, her eyes were gazing at her notes, her breathing steady, as she fell into a studious silence.

But Natsume couldn't throw himself into his work as successfully. He kept on glancing at her, hoping that he would catch her staring at him. But she didn't – her eyes remained firmly on her notes. After five minutes, his restraint snapped, and he voiced out, "You're asking a lot of me, you know."

"Hmm?" she absent-mindedly hummed.

"How on earth am I supposed to study with you half naked in bed? … With your leg on my leg?" On cue, he nudged his leg against her's, rubbing their skin together.

He felt victorious when she looked up from her work; he adored the sight of her in her glasses, with that slightly annoyed crease between her brows. " _You're_ also half-naked but I can study perfectly fine."

It was time to use his bedroom voice. "Mikan…" he edged closer to her, "can't we study _after_ we—"

"No." Her voice and tone was firm. "Natsume, I told you I needed to study! If you can't start thinking with the right head in the next five minutes, leave. Leave me to study alone, and I'll see you later."

Her words dismantled his libido. It was his turn to frown. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave Mikan's room (he had just discovered it!), but he couldn't help but feeling grumpy at her words. Petulantly, he shifted his leg away from her, before he mumbled childishly, "I'm not leaving."

"Good. Because I don't want you to leave." His scowl waned at these words, and he had to press his lips together to stop himself from grinning when Mikan nestled her head comfortably on his bare arm. "Now _study_."

* * *

After an hour and a half of successful studying in her bed, Mikan yawned, then stretched her arms out. With a groggy groan, she pulled the covers off her and stood up from her bed. "I'm making tea. Do you want some?"

Reading Spenser for an hour completely sobered Natsume up. The right head was definitely in control at this point. "Hmm?" He didn't quite hear her question – some knotty few lines preoccupied him. He looked up abruptly. "Sorry, what?"

"Tea? Do you want some tea?"

"Oh. Yeah, thanks."

Soon, she came back with two cups, and handed a steaming cup to Natsume. "Thanks."

Feeling a little hot, Mikan climbed back into bed, but instead of burrowing herself in the covers, she lay on top of her duvet on her back. She had finished all her work for the day – she glanced at Natsume; he was still studying, so she just comfortably waited for him to be done with his work. Her eyes lazily shut. Knowing that it was raining outside whilst she was inside, toasty warm, comfortable on a bed with Natsume made her feel serene.

But then, next to her, she felt Natsume abruptly spring off the bed, cursing, "Shit."

"What?" She peeked her eyes open to see what was wrong.

He was rummaging through his bag. "I…" he didn't say anything, too focused on trying to find what he was looking for, "…I have to write a poem… for our meeting." He finally pulled out a pen and a thin notepad.

Mikan shut her eyes again – she had thought that he had spilled his tea on her bed. She felt him climb back on the bed. "Surely if you _have_ to write a poem, it goes against the conventional spontaneity of poetry?"

"Not necessarily. I mean, Shakespeare wrote most of his sonnets _for_ his patrons. He was paid to write them. It wasn't like he just strolled out one day and decided to write about a good-looking Earl. Besides, our meeting is in two days. I don't have time to write a short story… so poetry it is."

"What are you going to write about? The rain?" She could still hear the pounding rain pour outside her window. It was therapeutic, especially when he eyes were closed, her world black, but the sound constant.

"I'd never write about the weather." Natsume snorted, in mirth. "Besides, I thought we hate small-talk. We don't talk about the weather, remember? We're big-talkers."

Mikan laughed lightly. But then, she gave an unattractive 'oof', for Natsume had just unexpectedly placed his notebook on her lower stomach. Her eyes flew open, and she examined him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable. Getting inspired." He grinned at her. He was now crawling his way to her.

His notebook stay rested on her stomach, but he had moved himself so that he was currently positioned between her legs. While she was on her back, he lying on his front. They had been in this position many times before, but this time, Natsume was holding his pen instead of kissing her between her legs. Natsume was simply using Mikan's stomach as a desk – he rested his chin above her panty-line, and she watched incredulously as he started to scribble out a poem upon her stomach. She could feel the pen scratching the shaking paper on her stomach. She could also feel his warm breath by her belly button. She wondered briefly whether he was comfortable, and so opened her legs to give him more space. He burrowed himself appreciatively in response.

She let him write for a few minutes in comfortable silence.

Then, she nudged him with her foot. "What are you writing about?"

"I'm writing," he then glanced up at her with a wolfish smile, "about your cunt."

Her abs did more work than they had in years after hearing that: her torso lifted off the bed quickly, as she cried, "What!" She gasped, glancing down at Natsume, who was now pulling himself up on his knees, kneeling in front of her on the bed. "You are _not!"_

He laughed, before grabbing her, pulling her back down to the bed with him. He rested her back on his torso, and lifting the notebook up, he showed her the page as he read his incomplete poem out loud:

" _I drill, I dig,_  
 _Fast and steady_  
 _To find the spot that will make the cave groan and heave._  
 _I seek treasure; treasure that spills_  
 _I drill and dig to find the fountain of life._

 _The sweet land of Milk and Honey_  
 _Was just a wet, wet valley._

 _And when that spot is found,_  
 _The cave imitates the Shakespearian Rag_  
 _O O O O_  
 _Before the final elongated cry_  
 _Before the gushing liberation of the treasure_

 _The sweet land of Milk and Honey_  
 _Is just a wet, wet valley._

 _Sometimes I feel like I'm going to drown in Milk and Honey,_  
 _But surely there is no death sweeter._

… it's still a work in progress." Natsume grinned down at her, only to snicker at her incredulous expression.

Mikan gaped at the words. Her voice found her sooner rather than later, however. "You cannot show that to your friends!" She then pulled herself forward, so she could point an accusatory finger at the title that Natsume had scribbled at the top of the page. "' _Mikan's Cunt'?_ No, no! Change the title!"

"I can't. It's about _your_ cunt, after all."

"No, no!" She whined. "Just call it _Cunt_ then!"

"It's not _just_ a cunt. It's _your_ cunt."

She cried, "Agh! I can't believe you're comparing my cunt to a cave. _And_ called it a wet valley. … And I hate milk. You're putting me off my own vagina!" Natsume laughed heartily at this. She continued, "But even worse, this one dirty poem will traumatize your Literary Club—"

"Nonsense," Natsume nonchalantly replied, smirking slightly, "they'll all be salivating at the thought of your wet cunt." But then he frowned, and added as an afterthought (in that same wisecrack voice), "Hopefully not Persona. Bit of a gross thought…"

Her face scrunched up in disgust. " _You're_ gross," she refuted, as she struggled to break free from his tight hold, in attempt to grab and destroy the poem, "your friends are never going to look at me the same again! When they see me, they're only going to think of milk and honey!"

"Nonsense," he said again, "anyway, everyone already knows that you're regularly sleeping with me. You're _already_ tainted by association." he joked, now pressing his cheek against hers. After she sniffed distastefully in response, smiling, Natsume trailed his lips up to her ear to murmur, "Besides, you love that I love your cunt."

She was still held against his chest, and she watched as he placed his smutty poem on her bedside table. She was still eyeing it disapprovingly when she suddenly felt Natsume's hand trace its way down her stomach, straight to her underwear. Her attention diverged as a result – looking away from the offending poem, she now gazed up at him, and saw that he was smiling mischievously at her.

She knew exactly what that mischievous smile meant: he was about to remind her how much he loved her cunt, and consequently, how much she loved that he loved her cunt.

And when his fingers tickled their way down from her pelvic bone, down, down, Mikan heavily closed her eyes and sighed contently. Her body reacted by opening her legs for his wandering fingers.

His fingers pressed against her underwear as he languidly stroking them across the silky material. Up and down, up and down… Mikan could only mewl appreciatively in response, curling her back like cat, throwing her head deeper against Natsume's shoulder. She now moved her hips, in a desperate effort to shift his firm fingers towards her clit, but he purposefully did not touch her there (not yet, at least).

Her head started to thrash, and her hair brushed against his face. Automatically, his lips kissed her hair softly, repeatedly, as he continued touching her below.

He felt the effects soon enough: the fingers pressed against her silk underwear detected a hot stickiness beginning to stir from beneath. She was wet; it was time.

His fingers suddenly retreated, and her eyes snapped open. She felt confused and sluggish as he suddenly shifted his position. "Natsume," she called, but he softly shushed her, as he moved away from her. She was no longer lying on his chest, but instead lying on her own bed, as Natsume now made his way down her body.

Mikan moaned as he peeled her dampened underwear off her. "Natsume…"

She knew what he was planning to do when he spread her legs apart and bite her inner thighs. She loved it when he gripped her thighs like that. She loved it when he placed her legs on his broad shoulders. He loved it when her legs pressed pleadingly against his shoulders and back.

He breathed hotly against her cunt; she moaned in anticipation.

Natsume licked his lips before his mouth sucked her cunt, as he trailed his tongue heavily and hotly against her sex, up and up, exploring every fold, feeling the heat against his tongue, licking his way up towards her clit. Her moans soon became cries: "Ah, ah, _ah!_ Natsume!"

Her eyes were closed tightly and her hands, which were previously gripping her sheets, now found themselves gripping Natsume's hair. Desperate to feel more, desperate to be closer to him, she pushed his face deeper against her.

It was Natsume's turn to groan; he groaned against her wetness. There was no space to breathe, but ironically, he never felt more alive. He gripped her thighs tighter in response, wordlessly telling her that he wanted to be close to her too, as he passionately continued to suck and lick her cunt and clit.

Mikan's breathing was become more shallow and frequent, and she started to buck slowly and steadily against Natsume's face rhythmically. Her body felt as if it was humming, whilst her mind was buzzing. With Natsume, she could forget _everything_ : he made her feel as if she was the centre of the universe, as if she was the only thing existing. It was as if he made her see colours that only existed in a different dimension – colours were bursting in her mind as she focused solely on the way she felt (the way Natsume made her feel).

He was right: she did love the fact that he loved her cunt, and when she hazily opened her eyes to gaze down at Natsume, she felt all of a sudden incredibly emotional. She felt as if her heart was going to burst… maybe even cry or sob. She couldn't even see his face, but just seeing her fingers entangled within his black hair made her heart sob.

His tongue stopped roaming and entered her centre. Mikan screamed, throwing her head back in her pillow, and the gentle bucking of her hips now become frantic. Natsume darted his tongue around, exploring her insides, tasting her. She was hot and tight; it was hard to maneuver his tongue skillfully inside, so he just continued to stretch and push his tongue as far as it would go.

"Oh, oh, _ohhh,_ oh God, Natsume!" Mikan moaned, and moaned some more, "Ah, ah, _ahhh!_ " Every thrust of his tongue made her cry. Her face was completely flushed: she was so hot, molten even, and she felt the first spasm shake her, signaling that her orgasm was close. "Natsume, Natsume," she breathed breathily, clutching his hair, "I'm going to come, Natsu— _mmm_ — _ahhh!_ "

She couldn't finish her sentence – words seemed impossible for her, as Natsume pulled his tongue out, only to replace his warm, wet tongue with two rigid, strong and long fingers. His fingers stretched into her deeper and harder, making her scream, and he pumped his fingers in and out of her feverishly. Her grinding hips made her bed squeak and thud against the floor as he fingered her _hard._

"Deeper, deeper, please, please," Mikan chanted hoarsely, then crying, " _ah!"_ She cried not only because he listened to her pleas, but also because Natsume's tongue was now stimulating her clit; his soft tongue pulsed against her clit whilst his stiff fingers pushed deeper, so that they were knuckle deep.

The two combined sensations brought about Natsume incessant fingers and tongue made Mikan come almost immediately: her back arched off her bed whilst she tossed her head back, embedding it in her pillow. " _Oh_ , Natsume! Mmm!" She panted heavily as her treasure spilled. She kept calling out his name, feeling infinite.

Natsume pulled his fingers out of her, allowing the treasure to seep. After he kissed her clit one last time, he shifted down slightly so he could suck up and lick her release. His tongue lapped against her swollen, quivering folds. He listened carefully to her labored pants that were accompanied so sweetly to the wet sounds his tongue made against her. It was perfect harmony.

Mikan had seen bright, beautiful colours when she came. Now that was descending from euphoria, the colours were melting away into darkness. She slowly opened her eyes, and out of the darkness came Natsume's face. His body was crawling up to her, and she opened her arms to welcome him back up. Mikan pulled him into her arms, letting his weight crush her. She laughed from underneath him. He laughed too, but soon shifted so they now faced each other in her bed.

She kissed him, before nipping his lips, pulling at it tenderly with her own lips. He kept his lips passive, as he just watched her play.

Natsume had gotten hard when he gave her head, but now, the fire in his loins was put out; instead, it was his chest that burned. It burned so painfully and weightily as he gazed down at her, watching her kiss him so sweetly.

He groped for the blanket before pulling it over them.

Mikan raised her eyebrows. "Done already?" Her voice was soft. "I thought you were planning to dirty my sheets."

His voice was just as soft. "Let's just… you know," It was as if they were whispering to each other – a complete reversal to the earlier moans and cries that echoed in her room; now they wanted to keep their conversation between themselves.

"Cuddle?" she offered.

He nodded.

She smiled warmly at him as her hand began to caress his back, drawing wispy and gossamer patterns with her nails. "You're really good at that." She said, clearly referring to his earlier activities below.

He didn't respond; instead, he simply gazed at her as his own hand began to stroke the hair close to her ear.

"What's the matter?" Mikan gently questioned. "Where's your usual boasting? Your snarky 'I may not be a doctor, but I'm an expert on human anatomy' comments?"

Natsume shrugged, still stroking her hair.

Mikan now looked marginally concerned by his lack of verbal responses. Words, after all, were his specialty. She stopped stroking his back, and pulled herself up slightly. "Are you okay? … Did I make you do something you didn't want to do?"

He pulled her back down, before pressing her face and body against his chest entirely. He thought he felt her heart beat when he hugged her, but he was unsure whether it was just his own heart. Maybe both – he couldn't tell anymore. "Don't be silly. Of course not." he reassured her, "I'm okay. I promise."

He just didn't have much to say. Because words were failing him. Because words could not possibly truthfully convey how he was feeling. Because words suddenly seemed paled to his feelings.

"I'm fine," he promised again, as he saw her peek up at him, curiously and dubiously, "I… I just want to do this."

"Cuddle?"

"Yes, cuddle."

She smiled. "Alright, baby…"

"Baby?" He was surprised – pleasantly so. Was 'baby' to be his pet name? He felt his ears heat up.

"As in _baby_. Like babies. Like a small human that cries like 'waaah-waahh!' when it wants food or attention."

Natsume's hot ears turned cold. "You think I'm like a baby?"

She heard his disappointed tone. Usually she would have replied with a witty and cheeky one-liner in response. But right then, despite his promises, Natsume didn't seem to be entirely fine to her. It's no fun being witty when your partner isn't feeling witty. Deciding that this was not the time to display her wit, Mikan kindly replied. "Babies are cute. You're cute." But she saw this was not to response he wanted. She tried a different, more intimate tactic, "… I think it's a good pet name for you. … If you're into that sort of thing?"

For the first time in a long time, Mikan felt vulnerable. Some part of her immediately regretted her words, but another part of her held its breath as she waited for Natsume's response.

"Okay," he agreed (she exhaled, feeling both jittery and relieved), "what… what do you want me to call you?"

"Considering I chose yours, I think it's only fair you choose mine. But choose wisely!"

He gazed down at her, seeing how she was pressed against him, her eyes looking up at him nervously. This was new for them: they had never been shy or nervous around each other previously, no matter what they did, but now, as they simply cuddled, both were scared of saying the wrong thing.

Natsume stroked her hair, cradling her. "You're Polka-Dots."

"Polka-Dots?"

"Polka for short."

She seemed confused. "Do I remind you of Minnie Mouse or something?"

He laughed. "No. I'm paying homage to our first night."

Mikan remembered her polka-dotted underwear. "Trust _you_ to come up with a unique pet name that's both perverted and sweet."

He was tentative. "Is that a yes or a—"

"Yes!" Mikan interrupted quickly, not wanting to hurt him. "I won't mind being called Polka by you. It's… personal. I like that." It felt strange to have to constantly reassure Natsume, as he was usually confident with his words. She could tell something was bothering him, and wondered what made him doubt his own words.

(Little did she know that Natsume had simply just realized that he loved her cunt because he loved _her_ and everything about her. He loved her. He loved her.)

"Spend the night here with me, please?"

"Of course, Polka."

* * *

 **A/N:** No individual review-replies today, I'm sorry! But thank you so much to the wonderful quartet who did review! I appreciate it so much.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Will try to update asap.


	7. Talks

A/N: Hey guys. So, I'm not really happy with this chapter. It feels so cliché and so overdone. I've seen this scene play out in every romcom. But I just wanted to highlight some things with this chapter (although I did it very poorly…) – I'll explain what at the end, in my concluding author's note below. Enjoy, I guess?

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Talks**

"Mochu!"

"Woah!" Mochu who had been quietly reading, jumped in his seat, surprised by Natsume's sudden voice and rather urgent tap on the shoulder. "Shit, man – you scared me! Don't _grab_ people like that."

"I need to talk to you."

Mochu looked at his friend quizzically. Natsume seemed frenzied, confused: he seemed as if he was in dire need of a friend. Mochu closed his book shut, and turned to him. "I'm all ears. What's up?"

Natsume exhaled, "I'm just going to say this really quickly."

"Okay…"

"So… well, last night I slept-over at Mikan's." Mochu raised his eyebrows at this statement, urging him to go on. "And well, it was really nice. Her room was really nice. Well, everything was really nice, especially her." Mochu just looked confused now. "I had a really good time."

"… Good for you?"

"I mean, I had a _really_ good time."

Mochu frowned. "Is that a euphemism?"

"What? No. I just had a really good time with her."

"…You know how you said you were going to say this really quickly? Well, hate to break it to you but you're not doing that. At all. I have no fucking clue in what you're trying to say."

"I think I like her." Natsume blurted out.

Mochu raised his eyebrow, like an adult would to an oblivious child. "Then you should have just said so."

"Didn't you hear me? I said I think I like her."

Mochu glanced back down at his book, his attention drifting. "I heard you the first time, mate."

"Do you understand me?" How could Mochu read at a time like this? Natsume pulled his book from his hand, and held it up away from him. Once Mochu's gaze (well, glare) was back on him, Natsume further clarified, "I'm saying I think I like her. Not just like her… like- _like_ her."

Mochu sighed. "I understood the first time, mate. Can I have my book back?"

"I don't think you get it."

Mochu groaned and rolled his eyes as he cried, "God almighty! I get it, alright? You love Mikan! Did you really have to scare the shit out of me just to tell me that?"

Natsume looked scandalized. "Why are you so calm? Why aren't you surprised in the least?"

Mochu didn't know whether to laugh or groan. "Natsume, it's very obvious that you like Mikan. You spend most of your time with her nowadays, and more importantly, anyone can see that she makes you happy. Now, calm down and give me back my book."

"I _am_ calm."

"Clearly."

"So, what do I do?"

Natsume was pathetically clueless, but as his friend, Mochu knew he should steer his clueless friend in the right direction. "You should tell her how you feel and ask her out."

Natsume's jaw clenched nervously. Natsume had thought of this last night, as he lay wide-awake in Mikan's bed, while Mikan slept peacefully in his arms. There, he concentrated on her breath, feeling how her chest rose and fell. He focused on feeling how their bodies were pressed against each other—how both her arm and leg were thrown over him. He fixated on their proximity; on the intimacy, his heart swelling every time she snuggled closer, molding her body against his.

When Natsume didn't say anything, Mochu continued, with a teasing voice, "And there I was thinking you'd be the type just to walk up to women and demand them to be your girlfriend."

Natsume frowned. "Only a psychopath would do that."

"I thought you always got what you wanted."

"What? No, of course I don't." Resignedly, he returned Mochu's book back.

Mochu could now see this was no time for light jokes. Natsume looked unamused, confused, agitated, scared even. And so, with no trace of that teasing smile, Mochu sincerely and seriously said, "Listen, Natsume. Mikan's a really nice girl. I like her. And I know you like her too—much more than I do. I like that she's challenging you to think, and broadening your mind. She's helping you becoming a more open-minded person. And I'm sure you're doing exactly the same for her, without you realizing so. So… so, it would be a pity and shame not to ask her out, just because you fear rejection."

Mikan, Natsume knew, stimulated both his mind and libido.

"It's just… we're both so similar. Two months ago, I would have told you I didn't want a serious relationship 'til I was thirty. But now…"

"Well, if _you've_ changed so much, no reason to why Mikan wouldn't change too. You said it yourself: you're both similar."

Out of nowhere, Anna barged in between them; she sat heavily on her boyfriend's lap, gave him a quick kiss, before she turned to Natsume. "Now, what were you two bookworms talking about, hm? You both look so serious!" She placed her hands on Mochu's cheeks, and pulled his lips upwards, joking, " _Why so serious?"_

"Hey, Anna," Natsume nodded, "you alright?"

She let her boyfriend go. "Fine, I guess. Well, as fine as anyone could be after a three hour lecture."

"Oh? So you medics are done for the day?"

"We finished two hours ago. I just woke up from a nap."

Natsume frowned slightly. That's odd. He had texted Mikan two hours ago; she hadn't replied, but he had assumed that was because she was held up in class. "Was Mikan in the lecture this morning?"

"Yup," Anna casually answered, "I sat next to her. That cow doodled all over my notes again."

He had texted her earlier, asking if she wanted to have lunch with him. Lunchtime was essentially over. Her silence meant no.

"Do you know where she is now?"

Anna yawned. "Well," she put a hand over her hand, and her eyes crinkled shut, "she was with Akira in the quad last time I saw her."

"Akira? Who's Akira?"

Mochu inwardly groaned when he saw the expression on Natsume's face. Jealousy, it would seem, didn't even suit the most handsome of faces. He wished he could direct the conversation elsewhere, but the determination in Natsume's eyes signaled that it was too late for any intervention. So, instead to put his faith in his girlfriend; inconspicuously he squeezed her waist, silently telling her to stop torturing Natsume unconsciously.

Anna didn't understand Mochu's squeezes. Thinking nothing of them, she nonchalantly delivered the final blow, "They were a thing back in first year. Second year too. Probably even now."

Abruptly, without saying anything, Natsume stood up and left.

Anna, blinked, baffled. She turned to Mochu, who gave a resigned shrug of the shoulders, before patting his girlfriend on her shoulder.

"Shit," Anna clapped a hand to her mouth, "I shouldn't have said that, should I?"

"It's fine, honey—"

"Oh _shit…_ fuck!" Anna bit her lip, worried and regretful now. "I thought they weren't serious. I didn't mean to stir shit up!"

"Honey—"

Anna now looked irate. "Ugh! _This_ is why 'casual' relationships never work out! They _insist_ and _insist_ that they are not 'serious', and that they are not each other's girlfriend or boyfriend, despite the predictable conclusion that one or the other _always_ gets jealous, and suddenly, no one, including themselves, knows _what_ they are. I mean, how was I supposed to know that Natsume was going to sulk at Akira's name, huh? Just three weeks ago he was still insisting he wasn't 'serious' with Mikan." She shook her head, muttering, "Fuck's sake…"

"Shhh…" Mochu was smiling; he always enjoyed her outbursts. "I know. That's why you're my girlfriend and I'm your boyfriend. That's why _they're_ silly, and we're smart. No grey area between us."

"Good… because I hate grey."

* * *

Natsume found Mikan with a man with long black hair. They were sitting on a bench in the quad talking animatedly, and Natsume couldn't stand it. He walked straight up to them, his eyes focused on Mikan.

When they noticed his appearance, the conversation ceased. Mikan looked up at Natsume with a smile on her face—she looked happy to see him; there was no trace of guilt in her expression, and that dismayed Natsume even more.

"Natsume," Mikan's voice was welcoming, "hey—"

"Can we talk?"

Mikan's smile withered. She was perplexed by his cold, demanding tone. She agreed nonetheless. Sending Akira an apologetic look (a look she did not spare for him, Natsume noted), she sat up and walked away with Natsume to a nearby tree.

She looked concerned. "What's wrong, baby?"

Natsume felt anguish when she called him that. He felt so human when she called him baby—he felt like a packet of dust made up of jealousy. It was painful to feel such powerful human emotions.

"Are you fucking that guy?"

Mikan's concern dissipated immediately. She blinked, shocked, but then composed herself: with an alert gleam in her eye, she warily demanded, "What did you say?"

"I said," he sounded like a mean child, "are you fucking that guy?"

Mikan squared her shoulders and stood her ground defiantly. "Is that any of your business?"

Natsume stared, offended. "What! Yes! Of course!"

But Mikan was just as offended. How _dare_ he take her away from her so unceremoniously, and demand questions in that seething tone? And to think of yesterday—yesterday when everything was so sweet, so lovely between them in her room, buried in her bed, when they whispered warm words against each other's skin…

"What," Mikan spat back, "just because you wrote one sloppy poem about my cunt, it's _yours_ now?"

Natsume menacingly leered, "Hey, it wasn't my poem that was sloppy: it was _your_ cunt that was wet. Wet for _me_."

Mikan fiercely glared at him. "What do you want, Natsume?"

"I just came to ask whether you're sleeping with that guy. Or any other guy for that matter." Underneath that callous gaze, Natsume was afraid; he was scared of her answer. His heart was beating fatalistically, terrified, as his mind pleaded and begged, 'please no, please no, please no, please no, oh God, please no, please no…'

Her nostrils flared. " _That_ guy is Akira. He's my friend."

His heart sunk. "So you _are_ —"

"When did I say that?!" She cried, furious. "I didn't say that!"

"But you didn't _not_ say that!" Natsume cried, just as passionately.

"Because I don't want to dignify your question with a response! How dare you, Natsume!"

"What have I done!"

"What have _I_ done?" Mikan questioned, her gaze fierce and blazing. "What have _I_ done wrong, Natsume? As far as I'm concerned, I have done nothing wrong. Not to mention, as far as I'm concerned, we're having a casual relationship so your possessiveness has no valid founding in the first place."

To Natsume, she had essentially just confirmed that she was seeing other people besides him. He felt his chest tightening—but not in the same ecstatic way it had done the night before, but instead, he felt empty despite the painful tightening.

"… I haven't been with anyone else since the first day I met you at Luca's."

If he was hoping to garner sympathy from her with that comment, he did not succeed. Mikan, who was still affronted, showed Natsume no compassion. "So what? Do you want an award for that? Natsume," she exhaled, "we're not allowed to get suspicious so long as we're in a casual relationship."

Natsume's sadness contorted into anger. He bristled coldly, "So you wouldn't mind if I just walked up to that girl and invited her to my bed? You wouldn't care?"

"I might care. I _would care_." Natsume was taken aback by Mikan's honesty. "Yes, I'd care very much. But you're not my boyfriend, so if you wanted to go up to that girl, I can't stop you. At least, right now I don't have any right to stop you. Do you understand me?"

Despite her honesty, he continued to glare at her. "Sounds like bullshit to me." And with those unkind words accompanied with his unkind eyes, he stalked off, away from Mikan and Akira.

She called after him, angrily, "So much for your feminist awakening, asshole!"

Ignoring her, she strode away. He was going back to his room: he wanted to be alone with his thoughts in the darkness.

* * *

"I thought you _both_ weren't looking for a relationship." Persona deadpanned, sighing slightly, "In fact, I seem to recall you being _happy_ to know that she wasn't a 'relationship type of girl'."

Natsume was unsure how their Literary Club meeting that somehow morphed into a 'Give Natsume Advice' meeting. Honestly, it had happened so fast—and here he was now, sitting, listening to _Persona's_ advice. (Could his morning get any weirder?)

" _You_ kept on saying that it wasn't serious," Yuu pointed out, "in front of Mikan. So how on earth is she to know you suddenly feel differently about your relationship? I think it's completely unfair that you suddenly sprung this on her." Yuu may not have that much experience, granted, but he knew right from wrong and the difference between justified anger and unjustified anger. "And the manner in _how_ you sprung it on her was unfair too. What you should have done is tell her you want to be exclusive and have a relationship with her. How else is she supposed to understand you?"

"She probably thought you were seeing other people too." Persona added.

"I _never_ gave that impression," Natsume tried to make a case for himself, "I was with her practically every night!"

"Irrelevant." Persona swatted away his argument. "Your reputation, nonchalance and dating history most likely hinted to her the possibility that you were seeing other people. Even if you thought you were being exclusively kind to her, if you didn't communicate your feelings with her, of course she's going to make her own assumptions, thinking that was just the way you act around _all_ girls—"

"But she—"

"Natsume, enough. Seriously, shut up." Mochu finally stepped in. "Look, men have been bitching about how women are inconstant since the Bible."

"Since classical literature." Yuu corrected.

"Since the _Epic of Gilgamesh_." Persona further corrected with a tone of finality.

"My _point_ is," Mochu did not seem impressed with the intellectual interruptions and did not let his eyes wander off Natsume, "what you want to say has already been said before for _thousands_ of years. And frankly, after all these years, it's getting really quite boring."

Yuu nodded, hearteningly, "Imagine this was the other way around, Natsume. Imagine she came up to you when you were talking to a friend, and demanded to know whether you were sleeping with this friend or not. You wouldn't think you had done anything wrong either. Because… because she hasn't done anything wrong. Frankly, you're in the wrong."

"You're just upset at the possibility of her liking someone else more than you. You're scared at the thought that she can be intimate with other people, but you have no right to fear for that if you're not her boyfriend."

Natsume sighed deeply. He stayed silent for a while. But then, with a resigned look, he surrendered, "You're right." He rubbed his chin, with his hand, "You're all right."

Mochu grimaced before give Natsume's shoulders two hard pats. "Glad we stopped you before that got ugly."

* * *

Rather than apologising over the phone, Natsume thought it would be best to apologise to Mikan vis-à-vis, so to help his 'communication' with her, as his friends put it. So, remembering where her room was, carefully tracing his memory, Natsume found himself standing outside her door, hoping for the best.

He knocked, then exhaled, feeling a lump in his throat – a lump, he knew, that was made up of sickening guilt and deafening fear.

After some shuffling, Mikan opened her door, with her reading glasses perched on her nose, and her hair all atop of her head. "Oh," she slightly closed the door, "I didn't expect to see you. I was… I'm studying." Although her words and actions weren't so encouraging, her tone was not cold and mean, but soft and honest. "Look," she sighed slightly, "before you give me the slut lecture, I'm just going to say now that I'm not apologising for my actions—"

"I'm not here to lecture you," Natsume promised, "and I don't expect an apology from you. In fact, _I_ just got the reverse-slut lecture from my friends, and I'm here to apologise to you, about what I said to you yesterday. You were right, and I had no right in treating you that way, especially so cruelly. I was wrong."

Her door opened slightly. Instead of standing behind her door, Mikan stepped out to face him on her doorstep. "You acted like an asshole yesterday."

"I know."

"You really hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry."

"I told you Akira was my friend, and you just jumped to conclusions anyway."

"I know. I'm sorry." Natsume tried to explain himself, "When you said he was your friend, I just thought he was a friend… you know, like me. I got really ugly and jealous. But like you said yesterday, I'm not your boyfriend. So," he swallowed, "instead of allowing myself to get to the point of jealousy, I should have just acted sooner. But now I'm scared I've blown my chances, considering my behavior yesterday." She edged closer to him, with an anticipatory gleam in her eyes; he sighed and admitted, "Mikan, I really like you. And I don't think you know how much I like you, but that's not surprising, because I haven't told you until now. And you're probably still mad at me, but I just need to get this out. I want you to be my girlfriend."

Mikan didn't look too stunned at this confession. In fact, she didn't really react.

Natsume then felt he needed to fill the silence, "I understand if you say no. I just thought I should ask you, so you know how I feel about you. Just so there's no misunderstanding on my part."

She then softly pulled his hands into hers. With a small smile, she said, "Come in."

He followed her inside her sweet smelling room. It felt like home. She felt like home. His heart sighed.

"Medicine takes up about 95 percent of my time." Mikan said quietly, as she moved towards her desk. On her desk lay her laptop and her thick medical textbooks that made the _Riverside Chaucer_ seem like a light read. Pens and paper were scattered, and Natsume saw she had doodled on the corners of some pages. "That means I get 5 percent to myself. I've always stayed away from relationships because I felt that I couldn't accommodate one into my lifestyle. But when I'm with you, the 5 percent doesn't feel so little. You're the only person I know that seeks me out during the 5 percent. You do it so effortlessly. You make 5 percent seem like 100 percent. You make my life better. I know this is all sounding very selfish – like I'm just using you in my free time, but I want you to know that it's _you_ who makes the difference, and I'm so happy that during these past few weeks, you chose to spend time with me. Thanks to you, I know now that saying a relationship was impossible because of my study was just a bullshit excuse. It was impossible before you because I hadn't met you."

Mikan hands crawled behind his back, and she held his shoulders, as she pressed her face against his chest. He held her tightly there.

"I think I love you." she mumbled against him.

"I know I love you."

"No one's ever made this happy or this sad before."

"I'm sorry."

She looked up to him. "You don't understand. I don't cry. Honestly! I don't. But you made me cry really easily yesterday."

"I'm sorry."

"You're apologising for the right reason, but, I won't lie to you, if I didn't cry last night, I probably wouldn't have realized my feelings towards you." She buried her head against him again. "But please never treat me like that against."

"I promise."

"Don't make promises if you can't keep them."

"I can keep this one."

She sniffed, and for a moment, Natsume was worried that she was crying. But when she shifted slightly, he saw that she was scratching her nose. "Your jumper's itchy."

He held her chin. He kissed her. She kissed him back. It started off soft and gentle, but soon, Mikan's arms were around his neck, and his were clutching her hair. They breathed against each other, but before it got too passionate, Mikan rested her forehead on his lips. He automatically kissed it, over and over.

She sighed, as she looked in the direction of her desk. "I'm really sorry, but I need to submit this before 9pm."

"That's okay. I understand."

"Stay here?"

He nodded.

"I'll be done soon."

And so, Natsume stripped down to his boxers and climbed into her soft bed. She had turned off the lights, and so only the desk lamp illuminated the room, and he silently watched her back, as she scribbled on paper and typed on her laptop. He didn't know whether it was the relief of this evening going even better than he had ever hoped, or whether it was because he was just so content, but Natsume found himself drifting in and out of sleep.

He was snug in her bed, in her sweet smelling room, and the peaceful sight of her studying all became a warm lullaby to him…

As soon as Mikan clicked the 'submit' button, she swiveled on her chair with a bright smile, hoping to be greeted by Natsume. Instead, she found a sleeping Natsume. Her smile turned serene; she turned her light off before she let herself into her bed. It was still only 20:47pm, but there was nowhere else she would rather be. Natsume was facing in the opposite direction, so she crawled towards him, pressed her body against his, and spooned him from behind.

He sleepily reacted by unconsciously turning to face her, and so, she cradled his head under her chin and stroked his hair. She felt his breath against her collarbone.

She let him sleep, and soon, she was asleep. Together, early in the evening, they slept.

* * *

A/N: I am SO SORRY for the delay! Yeah… this "Summer" project has clearly failed (um, how is it already October… what the actual hell. Did we just skip two months or something…?). I won't abandon it though – I'll keep it going. Maybe it'll be completed by next summer, haha. Blame life and all its curveballs and complications!

So, yes, this chapter. Confusion, anger, forgiveness and love: see what I mean by cliché rom-com trope? Ah well. But I wanted Natsume to understand his mistake because I feel like men get away with saying shit like that so easily…


	8. Coin

A/N: I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter 8: Coin**

* * *

As he had fallen asleep around 8pm, Natsume woke up early, at 4am. Very gently, he woke; he felt and experienced his surroundings before his eyes could adjust. Mikan had closed the blinds, and so her room was a little pocket of dusty darkness.

He felt warm in Mikan's bed, feeling the snug next to her, hearing her breath.

Being with Mikan did funny things to him. He felt as if his ribs were cracking from the weight of emotion, but at the same time, he felt incredibly peaceful. It wasn't the giddy feeling he experienced in early teenagehood – it was an overwhelming sense of calm, despite his beating heart.

Turning to face her, Natsume stretched his arm across her shoulders, then slid them down her back and then hugged her waist. Tucking her under his chin, he closed his eyes, with hopes to snatch a few more hours of sleep.

But then Mikan shifted. She gave a small little whine, before she mumbled, "Natsume?"

She was awake too.

"Polka." He replied gently, a smile present in his voice, as she loosened his arm around her so she could peer up at his face.

"Good morning, baby," Mikan said, her voice somewhat both amused and tired.

"I think it's really early. The sun's not up yet."

" _We're_ up." She found his face in dark, and her hands cradled his face before she kissed him.

The feelings from last night came rushing immediately – the taste of forgiveness, love and acceptance, and soon it was too hot under the covers. They undressed, and the slow morning sensitivity soon melted away. They now both understood that emotion and passion were two sides of the same coin when you're in love.

When Mikan came, colours melted, but then reappeared in her mind in flashes – she saw them eating lunch together; she saw them studying together; she saw eating cereal in bed together; she saw them drinking tea together…

Her room was still dark when she opened her eyes; she could hear Natsume breathily pant by her ear and felt his bare chest heaving but it wasn't enough. She wanted to see him; she wanted to see his face when she next kissed him—

Her hand found the switch to her bedside lamp. She turned it on, and a dim light flooded her room. She watched him: first, he winced at the sudden change in exposure, but then his squinted eyes opened as he looked down at her. She was caged between his arms (his elbows were holding him up), and she brought him closer by looping her arms around his neck.

Pressing her forehead against him, Mikan murmured, "We're really good at that."

"Our pre-relationship sex paid off, I guess." Natsume answered smartly, with a grin.

She giggled, before she pulled him down so he didn't need to hold himself up with his elbows. Natsume rested his head on her chest, and she began to stroke his hair. Her hand then travelled down to his back, and Natsume felt her fingers caress the scars on his back: they traced the bumpy lines carefully. He couldn't help but feel self-conscious; sometimes he caught glimpses of the scars on his back in the mirror – he knew his back was not a scenic canvas.

In a soft voice, Mikan asked, "Do you mind if I ask you where you got these scars from?"

Natsume was surprised. "You don't know?"

"Well, I haven't asked you until now."

"I thought you would have asked Mochu or Koko. Maybe even Luca."

She didn't say anything; her fingers kept caressing his back instead, patiently waited for him to say something.

"I was in a fire accident." Natsume quietly said. "I forgot to turn off the stove, and I fell asleep. I was eight, which is why the scarring looks so bad. As I grew, both my scars and my skin stretched in all directions." He took a deep breath before he continued; "I remember the house and all our clothes smelling like firewood for a whole year.

Lightly, she remarked, "I bet you were the bad boy in your year at the tender age of eight, with your scars and smoky clothes."

He smiled against her chest before he rolled over to look at her. "I was."

Her smile then turned a bit sad. "I'm sorry, though. I can't imagine how scary that must have been for you." Her voice was gentle and sincere.

"If I'm honest, I don't actually remember much. I guess I repressed it real good up here." He tapped his temples.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for asking me."

A kiss of thanks was shared.

The outside world seemed to be brightening: the sun was very slowly starting to rise; not enough to shine and illuminate the room, but enough to slightly colour the edges.

"It's raining again," Mikan said, listening to the quiet hum of pitter-patter.

"Yeah…" He pulled her into his arm; they cuddled in bed. Before this, he never really understood nature poetry, but as he listened to the rain with Mikan in his arms, he felt undeniably alive, safe and sheltered – just like nature poetry described. "You know, despite claiming that you're not a small-talker, we small-talk a lot."

Memory flooded her eyes, and her entire face lit up. "Oh yeah!" She laughed. "I did say that." She then shrugged. "I guess you're the exception. I usually can't stand small talk, but I like small-talking with you."

The small, the big: the small-talk; the big-talk; the small, precious moments; the big, grandiose moments; the small short-term promises; the big long-term promises... small and big, either way, meant love to both Mikan and Natsume.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N from 2018:** Hello! Originally, this story was to be much longer (I said so in the previous author's note). However, I have decided to end this story here. It feels complete to me, and I don't want to complicate it/drag it out. So, hope you enjoyed it!


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